


Blackthorns and Lilacs

by Elinie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Brooding, Drama, F/M, Marriage Law Challenge, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape Friendship, Moral Dilemmas, Post-War, Romance, Severus Snape Lives, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, cunning gryffindors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 52,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26955145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elinie/pseuds/Elinie
Summary: Their love was like ice and fire. Like day and night. Like madness and calmness. Like loving and longing for love. Like lilacs and blackthorns. The story about love and loss, cunning Gryffindors and underestimated mediwitches, friendship and regrets, moral dilemmas and ginger cats, but above everything, this is the story about love and a little bit of language of flowers.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 172
Kudos: 197
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! Thank you to my wonderful and the most amazing Beta thislifeisawasteland. Sending all my love and gratefulness :)

The measured ticking of the clock echoed in his ears like church bells. Somewhere in the potions laboratory water was dripping. It seemed that he forgot to turn off the tap again. It also seemed that he did not care anymore. It was raining outside. Autumn had arrived once again. She had always waited for the onset of autumn. She collected leaves and made bouquets of herbs later. She would frequently rob his stock of the most valuable ingredients and brought home green apples to leave on the windowsill and let ripen. She watched with fascination as the fog spread out from the mountains. She looked forward to the flowering of the heather when it would be possible to inhale their delicate scent.

Autumn was her favorite season, a whim that he would never understand. He lowered a useless bouquet of yellow leaves on the windowsill, barely touching the raindrops, which left silvery marks on the leaves.

The branches of the trees scraped on the windows frightening her cat to scurry about the rooms. Crookshanks tried, in vain, to find a quiet place where he could hide and wait out the bad weather. Severus was surprised to realize that, unlike the cat, he did not want to look for a safe haven. He was hypnotized by this bad weather, by the fury of the rain, by the storm raging outside.

She wasn't there. Words exploded in his thoughts and echoed deafeningly off the walls. The room seemed to be shrinking, trying to enclose him in a circle of hell.

“Good kids don't make revolutions, Severus,” he remembered how she said this phrase with a venomous smile and left to change this indifferent world. None of them cared. Until recently, Severus had placed himself to the same category.

A bottle of whiskey flashed derisively with amber facets in the glow of the dying coals in the fireplace. He thought himself pitiful and helpless. He wanted to break something, obeying a sudden fit of rage, but suddenly her cat came running from the bedroom. Crookshanks jumped up and began to poke his hand with a cold, wet nose.

“What do you want from me, Furball? Go away."

But the cat did not share his irritation, jumping into his lap and nuzzling his cold nose into Severus’ neck. Severus and the cat both felt bad at that damned night, and Severus had a feeling that his life was torn to bloody pieces once again.

She was not there, but she was everywhere. The half-read book stolen from his shelf of the most valuable copies, another volume on Dark Curses which she never returned to the Restricted Section of the library, half-eaten crackers, her unfinished cup of coffee. Apricots and heather. That was what he smelt in a brew of Amortentia. Her scent was everywhere. He wanted to run out of the room, to hide from hearing, from seeing, from feeling.

A Muggle photo stood on his desk. Her happy smile, blooming April, yellow dress with polka dots, a stupid hairband. He did not even realize how much he loved her in those minutes. And next to the photo was an official letter from the Ministry.

_Hermione Jean Granger Found Dead. Dark Curse. Irreversible magic. Accident._

Pointless words of sympathy. A look full of sorrow. Her outraged:

"My name is Madame Snape now, whether you like it or not!"

She's gone. He seemed to sense her presence even now. He just had to close his eyes and listen carefully. The rain beat against the windows, the silence filled with the echo of her footsteps. She was late for work every morning, rushed through their home, as if mad, stumbling over a cat, and burning her tongue with coffee. Every evening she wandered through the halls, burying her nose in a book. Every now and then, she asked him a hundred questions per second, without waiting for an answer.

Her new toothbrush would remain unopened. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and felt his throat tighten. The stupid Muggle pregnancy test remained in the bathroom. Positive. That morning they had a grandiose fight. He again tried to convince her that the profession of the curse breaker was too dangerous. She stubbornly maintained her own. She wanted to change the world.

"I'll tell you something important tonight if you stop talking nonsense and stop sulking, Severus."

Unbearable impudent minx.

He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, frightening off the calmed cat. They now have one loneliness shared between the two, one pain for two.

He knew Minerva would definitely visit that evening. She would sit next to him, persuade him to carry on, and then, unable to bear his silence and her own grief over the loss of her favorite student, she would leave him alone. At dawn Poppy would visit him, hug him tight with a motherly gesture, cry and give him Dreamless Sleep, and all for the sake of meeting the Potter brat by noon.

The boy had already lost two of his friends and Severus had nothing to say to him.

"How do I live now, Professor Snape-", he would stutter. The head of the Auror Department, Harry James Potter, would smear his tears with his sleeve. Severus couldn't afford such a weakness.

They had only six months, half of which they spent in deafening quarrels and passionate reconciliations.

And in a week the heather was going to bloom...

“If it is a girl, let's call her Eileen Astra. Eileen Astra Snape. I like it," Hermione once said, almost falling asleep on his chest.

"Dear heart... How would I live without you?" Severus muttered almost in a whisper.

The silence of his empty life was his only answer.

Snape threw his head back and laughed like a madman. Until the spasm clenched his throat and he choked on his sobs.

She wasn't there. She would never be there anymore.


	2. Rue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bitter taste of its leaves led to rue being associated with the (etymologically unrelated) verb rue "to regret". Rue is well known for its symbolic meaning of regret and it has sometimes been called "herb-of-grace" in literary works. It is one of the flowers distributed by the mad Ophelia in William Shakespeare's Hamlet (IV.5):
> 
> "There's fennel for you, and columbines:  
> there's rue for you; and here's some for me:  
> we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays:  
> O you must wear your rue with a difference..." (c)
> 
> Wiki.
> 
> Now betaed! Sending all the love and cookies to my amazing beta - thislifeisawasteland

The gray morning gloom disappeared into the sorrowful dawn. The new day dawned and brought with it an encounter with the inevitable condemnation of others. A collision with one's own revived fears, unwanted meetings, and another road without an end. He had lost his aim somewhere in the middle of the path and now wandered senselessly with little concern for the final destination. As he had expected, that evening his small house with three rooms, a guest bedroom given over to a library, a kitchen where apples and pears or herbs were always drying, and blue smoke curling from a red-brick chimney was visited by Minerva.

He opened the door for her, glanced indifferently at the strict emerald-colored cloak, and noted deep wrinkles and eyes red from tears. He stepped back inside, letting the headmistress and faithful friend through his darkest days into the house.

"Severus, how could it even be possible?" Minerva sobbed, rustling past Snape.

“If I knew that, I would certainly tell you, Headmistress."

Minerva pursed her lips, ignoring his remarks.

“Harry promised to come tomorrow. Poor boy, such a misfortune, such a loss. Two of his best friends."

Severus frowned, feeling the flames of hatred and bitter resentment rise in his chest.

"Harry, you say? Poor boy? An unfortunate lamb given up for the slaughter? Nothing has changed, Minerva, as I see it. Has our so-called friendship gone to pieces?"

"Severus, why are you doing this? I came to offer help."

"Yes, and instead you, for some reason unknown to me, dragged your wonderful boy into the conversation, once again!"

“I thought we had reached an understanding long ago, Professor Snape."

Once again, Severus felt like an eleven-year-old boy, standing guilty before the formidable headmistress. Again, so suddenly, his conscience began to speak. Asking Minerva to sit down, Snape sat down across from her and stared at the flames.

"I have no answers for you, Minerva. Our marriage happened before your eyes, and who knows, perhaps you contributed to it to a greater extent. She always listened to you, and even more so, having almost lost her parents. Therefore, I should probably thank you now..."

“Severus, I didn’t come here to play the role of your conscience. I came to support you and say that I will accept any of your decisions. If you want to vacate the teaching post and leave for ends of the earth, I will understand."

Snape was silent for a long time, watching the reflections of the flame cast slanting shadows on the walls. He remembered all sorts of nonsense, which, as it once seemed to him, had no meaning at all. After the war, she became afraid of loud noises, darkness, falling from a height and, it seemed, even Hogwarts ghosts. Snape recalled how she was apprehensively huddled up to him when they happened to patrol the night corridors.

He couldn't bring himself to call her by her name. Couldn't even think it, let alone say it out loud. It seemed that her name would break the fragile haze of stupor in which he had been for the last nine hours, and he would have to accept that his wife was no longer there. He was alone again. As always.

Minerva stayed at his house for another half hour, promised to take on all the necessary preparations, and left. Snape's world was quiet again, cold, indifferent, and hopeless.

The rain rustled softly against the silvery surface of the invisible rune-covered glass. The Hospital Wing was probably the only place in Hogwarts where the security shields never needed to be updated. The students shied away from Madam Pomfrey as if she were one of the Unforgivable spells. Truthfully, the Mediwitch felt the same way about the students.

Endless abrasions that did not have time to heal, cuts from unsuccessful spells, or, too well-aimed curses. Broken bones, purple bruises, in a word, everything that she knew perfectly well when she applied for the position of a Mediwitch at Hogwarts.

She was young and inexperienced and tried to heal her broken heart with grueling work. Her husband was killed by Dragonpox a little more than a month after the wedding. This was why the newly-widowed Pomfrey decided to devote her whole life to researching this disease and not allow any more preventable deaths again.

The unsociable boy, who preferred to sit in the far corners of Hogwarts, always bothered her more than others. If everything was clear with the boys who had outplayed Quidditch and overheated in the sun, rare for Scotland, Severus always looked sullenly, skillfully hiding the pain, and running away to the Astronomical Tower. She used to go in search of him and she used to sit down next to him and make him talk to her, but Severus kept his silence, brushing off all her possible questions.

Madam Pomfrey did not insist, of course, but her sympathy for the sullen boy from the very beginning warmed her towards Severus. So, she patiently waited, went to his Tower, and persuaded him to go to bed. She brought gingerbread cookies, took him by the hand, and led him away with her to the Hospital Wing. She put him to bed and sat next to him for a long time.

It seemed that Poppy would never condemn him, therefore, when he was distraught after receiving the Dark Mark, Severus came to repent in the Hospital Wing. Minerva happened to be there too.

Severus watched blankly as the drama ensued between the two women, each in their own way responsible for him. Poppy, as expected, justified and consoled Severus, while Minerva reprimanded and threatened to tell the Headmaster everything. Poppy had to intervene again and open her friend's eyes to the death of the Potters, the Prophecy, and the true role of Severus in Dumbledore's grand plan. Minerva fell silent. Then she started a violent activity to counter the crazy schemes that coiled under her very nose.

They were like a mother and a stepmother, they consoled and punished, they were there when there was no one else left. Women came to the rescue when the men sent Severus to his death.

  
Severus sat in the dark and waited.

By midnight, the fireplace lit up with a green light, and Poppy entered without asking, unloaded containers with food and bottles with various potions of all kinds on the table: from Soothing Potion to Dreamless Sleep. Next, she went into the kitchen, turned on the kettle, mixed mint, lavender, valerian, and a pinch of black tea. She then set out the plates on the table and only then returned to Severus.

"Come on, my dear, there is no need for you to sit here in silence and drown yourself in your grief."

"Poppy, I don't need your advice or your-"

“Hush, Severus, you can tell me everything later. You can even yell at me and chase me away, but first, you come with me and eat whatever I put on your plate."

Severus stared at the nurse with wide eyes. Once upon a time, during a childhood immersed in pain and darkness, his mother used to bring him crackers into the attic, bought with the last of her change from a neighbor, a merchant. Crackers and sweet tea with more sugar than the tea leaves. And in these innocent gestures, his whole world was covered.

Severus desperately grabbed onto Poppy's outstretched palm with both hands and pressed his forehead against it.

"I'm with you, my boy, I'm with you. We will survive this night, and then we will see."

And he survived, of course, he had no other choice. Life never asked for his opinion, it only put him between a bad and a very bad road and made him go forward.

By noon Potter came, entered without asking, and looked at Snape in confusion.

"Why her, Professor? Why her? She was the best of us, wasn't she?"

And instead of a venomous remark bursting from his tongue, Snape suddenly froze in indecision. It was as if he had awakened from some wicked slumber in which he had been living his entire life during those few hours. He realized that he and Potter, for sure, had nothing to fight about anymore. And Harry, just like Severus, dreaded calling Hermione by her name.

"Sit down Harry. Remus should be here in an hour, so there's no point in kicking you out," Severus muttered, making an inviting gesture. Harry smiled sadly.

Hermione had been Teddie's godmother. Lupin who lost his wife in the Battle of Hogwarts should have understood Snape like no other. Snape, on the other hand, desperately wanted to share his loneliness with at least someone, even if that someone would be his long-time enemy, and now forced ally.

In the evening, Remus came, and they drunk themselves into unconsciousness, not thinking of a better way to cope with their grief. By midnight Snape went to the cemetery and stood for a long time at the marble tombstone - simple and memorable, like his wife’s whole life. He lowered a bouquet of fragrant rue on the monument and stroked the golden letters:

_"Hermione Jean Snape. Dear heart."_


	3. Laurustinus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! Sending all the love and cookies to my amazing beta - thislifeisawasteland
> 
> Laurustinus means new signs, new symbols, a new way.

Minerva's office was flooded with the light of the setting sun, emphasizing the Gryffindor colors of the interior. After taking over the position of the Headmistress of Hogwarts, she refused to move to Dumbledore's office. She sarcastically wished Albus would use the time alone to think about his behavior. She never regretted her choice of staying in the Tower and frequently admired wonderful view of the surrounding grounds.

A teaspoon clinked softly against a china cup, an apricot pie was cooling on a platter, and a lively conversation was being conducted between the two allies. Poppy cut the cake as the kind hostess and poured more rosehip tea into the cups. The mediwitch then looked questioningly at Minerva.

"So, what are you suggesting?"

Minerva graciously took the first sip, surveyed the sunlit room with a wistful gaze, and responded, slightly drawling.

“I suggest we act, Poppy. It will soon be a year since Severus has locked himself within his four walls, making his days busy with brewing potions and writing articles. I don’t even remember the last time he slept or left Hogwarts for things more interesting than visits to Knockturn Alley. Merlin only knows, but I think he still has connections with the dark ingredient pharmacists."

"And you don't approve of that, of course," Poppy nodded back. She had long been accustomed to Severus' bouts of painful performance, so she was fairly sure that he simply needed time, and everything would work itself out in the end.

"Now you will start telling me that Severus needs time. That everything will pass, that he will recover from his acute melancholy and everything will be as before. But let me tell you, I believe this time is different from all the previous ones."

"I don't see much difference, Minerva. He lost a woman who was dear to him, he is trying to cope with his loss, he is immersed in work, and truthfully we should be grateful that he did not leave to look for a new Dark Lord or another, more accommodating, Master."

Minerva put her cup down and leaned forward. “You mediwizards are too accommodating and cynical to join the resistance, Poppy, because you are used to going with the flow instead of acting."

"What could we change, Minerva? Can we give Severus false hope? Are we ready to watch him slowly sinking into madness? It seems to me that we have already gone through all this with dear Albus, and it almost cost us the loss in the War."

Minerva snorted like a cat and curled her lips in a grin. "It does not bear any comparison. I'm sure Severus will not go in search of the Resurrection Stone and will not engage in golem creation. As for false hope..."

Minerva got up and walked to the farthest bookshelf filled with statuettes, rotating objects, and the very Muggle _perpetual motion machine_ \- all the trinkets she inherited from Albus. There, among the endlessly shimmering grains of sand in an hourglass expected to last for half a century, rested a small ball, shining with a bluish light. Minerva carefully took it in her hands and, swinging it on a chain, raised it to her eyes. Poppy looked closer and gasped in shock.

“I thought they were all destroyed years ago!"

“Everyone has their own secrets,” Minerva replied with a satisfied smile and returned to the table. “This was Hermione's last project, the Time-Turner, allowing you to travel decades in the past. The girl had grandiose plans! Oh, Merlin, and all because of some dark curse that rebounded!”

Poppy pulled the Time-Turner closer and frowned as she peered at the grains of sand dripping inside.

"It's the dust of the Philosopher's Stone, isn't it?"

"Hermione managed to contact the descendants of Flamel and by hook or by crook she found out the secret of making the Time-Turners. It seems to me that they were only happy to get rid of their father's heritage, who knows... But one thing is clear, she managed to reproduce the exact recipe."

“But what was she going to change?"

Minerva turned her pensive gaze to the window: the setting sun painted the waters of the Black Lake scarlet, reminding her of the day of the Last Battle when the loss of her students and friends painted the water and surroundings in the same colors. She will not allow another loss, not when everything can still be fixed.

“I suppose Hermione planned to prevent Albus from dying, you know that it was his death and the madness that preceded it that brought us all to the current confused and sad situation."

Poppy just sighed. Gryffindors always dreamed of changing the world, even when they were not asked to do so. Yes, Albus's insidious schemes cost many of them nightmares, but time would heal everything, everything would pass, they needed to live on, and not cling to the past.

As if reading her friend's thoughts, Minerva mockingly said, "Everything would pass? Go and tell Severus about it."

Poppy crossed her arms over her chest.

"What was it you were planning, anyway? You suggest we send him back five years and persuade him not to kill Albus? I suppose you think then he would not have to divide his own soul into parts and we would avoid the consequences of the killing curse."

"No, you are thinking in the wrong direction. No matter how cynical it may sound, but I don't need to bring Albus back to life. No, Albus had too many ruined lives on his account to allow him to get off so easily. Let him have his own Purgatory and repentance. I want to give Severus a chance to live the past year again. And who knows, maybe he can prevent Hermione's death?"

“In your cunnings, Minerva, you don't see the consequences. What if he loses?"

“He won't remember anything anyway. Plus, what if he won? You have always underestimated Severus, considering him to be something like your long-lost son."

“But you are pinning too high hopes on him."

“You know, the Sorting Hat did offer me Slytherin,” Minerva smirked. "More tea?"

*****

Severus froze warily over the cauldron, which sparkled and seethed with a purple potion. The calendar on the wall rasped today's date, the metronome counted down the prescribed number of seconds, the leaves outside the window changed their color. These were the only things that reminded him of the inevitable passage of time.

Yet another experimental potion fell short of expectations. Apricot pits, ginkgo leaves crushed into pollen, boomslang bile, acacia flowers, and elderberry bark. It was vital for him to keep his own memories of this damned year intact, but the components of the potion constantly neutralized each other, and he could not figure out what was his mistake.

Crookshanks, tired of Severus's endless preoccupation over the smoking cauldron, ran to the laboratory and demanded attention and food. Severus had to be distracted. He had to remember that besides the grief, he still had duties and responsibilities, and he was forced to face life head-on.

Yet everything in his house remained the same as if frozen in the autumn twilight haze, which would never dissipate under the sunlight. It seemed like his wife had just gone out on business and would come back in the evening to pester him with questions, leave her Muggle T-shirts around the house, sing in the bathroom, and try to cook a half-burned toast for breakfast.

Their wedding photo was still on the mantelpiece, enchanted from dust and aging. Severus remembered how chaotic their wedding day was, how annoyed Hermione seemed, and how angry he felt at himself. The stupid Marriage Law imposed by the Ministry seemed to ruin all their plans, but, as time had shown, they were both wrong.

The moment captured in the photo managed to capture the groom’s glance lingering on the bride and a timid smile and a spark of gratitude in Hermione's eyes. There was a scattering of sparks that showered the couple as a sign of prosperity and eternity.

Severus suppressed the urge to break something. He was afraid to violate the sanctity of the room, the fragility of the moment, and his acute melancholy. Next to the photo rested the Time-Turner, which the elves had brought the day before, and for the first time in a year, a new meaning dawned in his gloomy life.


	4. Holly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! Sending all the love and cookies to my amazing beta - thislifeisawasteland

Severus took a deep breath, counted to ten, scowled at the clock. He sighed dramatically and pushed the cauldron of tainted potion aside.

He had long since lost track of time, spending day and night working on an experimental potion to keep his memories intact. He could have made a good fortune by sending a patent to the Ministry and concluding a contract with Saint Mungo's. In the Hospital, in the most distant and secret wards, there were victims of dark curses, veterans of both wars, who had irreparably lost their memory. The possibilities for the future were innumerable, but Severus wanted nothing to do with the future.

Severus had not remembered ever making any plans for his life. He developed a lifelong habit of following someone's directions. Albus' tasks, the Dark Lord's whims, or Poppy's and Minerva's friendly advice. Snape was never a master of his life. Unlike his headstrong wife, with whom he had only shared six short months.

Snape recalled how she constantly left her colorful planners everywhere, how she pinned a schedule for herself and him to the wall. She was always highlighting something with multi-colored markers, emphasizing the letters and sentences, rewriting the spells. After that, she usually went to his laboratory and plunged herself into work on another potion that would help neutralize the effects of dark spells.

Severus brushed the sweat off his face with a slightly trembling hand and straightened, catching his breath for a moment. Outside, it snowed heavily. The white blanket spread on the ground. The wind beat against the windows shooting ice against the glass, He could almost feel the breath of the blizzard through the fireplace. He watched the kettle that hung over the hearth rattle with the gusts.

Admiring the storm for a few seconds, Severus removed the tainted potion, cleaned up his workplace, and went in search of food. Crookshanks, hearing the familiar, barely audible steps, ran after him and jumped into a chair. Severus did not make any comment to the cat's rude behavior - the impudent ginger Furball made his dark days a little more bearable and reminded him of his last winter with Hermione.

At the dawn of their marriage, when they vainly tried to understand each other and found themselves fighting each time, Severus used to think that the only thing that bound him and his wife was the law imposed on him by the Ministry. They finally settled on the one commonality: their mutual workaholism. The minute Hermione came up with some idea, she immediately started losing track of hours, days, and weeks, spending her days in the Ministry, or Severus' laboratory, or in her study. Severus shared her passion, rightly believing that if you wanted to be successful in life, you had to work hard. However, as it turned out, his wife turned into a real disaster when it came to the holidays.

_Christmas was approaching. Wizards and witches decorated the streets of Hogsmeade with colorful garlands, exhibited figurines of various magical creatures on the lawns in front of their houses, lit candles, and decorated Christmas trees. Severus frowned and muttered something about a waste of time. Hermione did not share his views on celebrating the holidays._

_One day Hermione came from work earlier than usual, put a lot of multi-colored bags at the door, went up to her husband who was working on an article for the Potions Herald, and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips._

_"Not that I'm trying to interrupt your fascinating work on another boring thesis, darling, but tell me, please, when was the last time you looked at the calendar?"_

_Severus crossed out a couple of sentences, checked his manuscript once again, filled a fountain pen with red ink, and only then deigned to pay attention to his wife._

_“I don’t see the need for pointless things, darling.” The last word oozed with poison. Severus hated being interrupted from work, especially if he was asked stupid questions. Hermione was not ever going to stop pestering him with questions._

_"You might be completely wrong, Severus. Christmas is coming, and I think that we just need to spend it traditionally."_

_"So, are we going to drink eggnog, bake gingerbread, eat a badly cooked festive goose, and sing Christmas carols offkey?" Severus frowned in response._

_"Your sarcasm is completely inappropriate," Hermione replied and stuck her tongue out at Severus._

_“As inappropriate as your obsession with unnecessary celebrations, and besides, I thought you were going to visit your parents in Australia.” Severus picked up the pen again and returned to his theses. Hermione leaned closer, enveloping him in the scent of lilac and apricot - he could not figure out if this scent was the scent of her shampoo or it was the aroma of his own half-forgotten Amortentia._

_“Let me decide who to spend my Christmas with. Besides, I wrote to mom and dad and promised to visit them at the end of February."_

_“And yet,” Severus reluctantly put down his pen and raised his head, “What makes Christmas so special for you? If you feel like decorating the tree, you can always visit Minerva and Filius and compete with them in the arts of Charms and Transfiguration."_

_Hermione shook her head at Severus's invincible stubbornness, pushed aside his papers, and perched on his table._

_"If I only wanted to decorate the tree, you impossible grump, I would go to my parents' former house, put a huge tree in the middle of the living room, color everything in Gryffindor colors and throw a pajama party for three persons: me, my eggnog and my loneliness!"_

_"So, praytell, what do you want, Hermione?"_

_“I want to create our own traditions, Severus, and fill the half-empty book of our lives with happy memories!" Hermione replied seriously, leaving Severus speechless._

_For two days Severus grumbled and said venomous remarks as he considered his wife's words. He never celebrated any holidays, not even once in his life. He was constantly busy with potions, or academic research, or assignments from Minerva, or taking care of his Slytherins. It seemed, he didn't have any time to think about something as bright as Christmas. Although Severus remembered his mother's stories about the ancient rituals of celebrating Samhain, Beltane, Lammas, and other important elements of the so-called Wheel of the Year, he didn't want to remember his childhood. In any case, the memories of those days were too blurred. However, his wife's words continued to ring in his ears._

_She wanted to create family traditions. He thought that he and Hermione hardly resembled a family. They had only stopped formally addressing each other three months prior and began to use their first names instead of too formal titles: "Miss Granger" and "Professor Snape." However, Severus still occasionally used his wife's maiden name when he wanted to annoy her._

_Severus was not in the mood for a pointless quarrel, so after a while, he agreed to accompany Hermione for shopping, obediently acting as a carrier of her bags and a scarer of overly curious young Ravenclaws who now and then tried to flirt with his wife. Severus didn’t know why those boys made him so angry, but when another up-and-coming youth Ravenclaw blanched at the sight of his former Potions' Professor and excused himself from the bookstore, Hermione laughed cheerfully and thanked him for his protection. Snape felt a bite of satisfaction._

_She wanted a Christmas tree. Well, let her have the tree. He was even ready to endure the Gryffindor palette, which their living room would undoubtedly turn into. Loaded with packages, Severus grumpily agreed to meet Hermione at the appointed place in an hour and went to visit his fellow potioneer._

_Diagon Alley was full of people as Christmas was fast approaching. Everyone was in a hurry to buy gifts so that they could spend more time with family or friends. Severus was alien to the jubilation of people and their enthusiasm for the holidays. He walked sullenly along the snow-covered cobblestones, balancing packages and bags until his legs led him to the window of a jewelry store._

_There, behind the glass decorated with sparkling lamps, the future newlyweds smiled happily and the same unfortunate ones who fell under the Marriage Law frowned. Severus hastened to banish the memory of how he hastily selected rings here on the eve of his wedding day. However, something else caught his attention: pendants of various shapes and colors shimmered in the light of the Christmas lights. Among them was a holly pendant. Red berries and dark green leaves, the symbolism of Slytherin and Gryffindor colors, the fusion of two personalities and sacred dreams of a possible happy future._

_Severus sighed, banishing his naive thoughts away. Without further ado he shoved the necessary amount of Galleons to the seller and put the pendant in his pocket._

_In the evening, after he and Hermione spent several hours in the kitchen, trying not to burn the festive goose, not let the mulled wine boil away, and at the same time not quarrel to smithereens, it started to snow. Hermione immediately left her cooking and stared at the window, amazed by a magical winter fairy tale._

_“Come here, Severus."_

_"It's just snow, Hermione." Snape huffed._

_"Shh, be quiet. Look how beautiful it is!"_

_And so he watched. The snow glittered in the dim moonlight, shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, reflecting the festive garlands. For a moment turned their everyday world into something wonderful and innocent, something from the long-forgotten childhood. Standing next to Hermione, Severus felt her move closer and finally decided to take her into his arms._

_“I have a present for you,” she whispered, nuzzling to his cheek. "Something that will allow you to stop keeping track of time and constantly control everything."_

_Taking a black wristwatch from her pocket, she handed it to him and smiled shyly. Severus felt embarrassed: no one had ever given him gifts, no one had ever prioritized him. Instead of answering, he handed his wife a pendant and was shocked when she squealed happily. Having examined the jewelry more carefully, she lifted her hair, offered her neck for him to fasten the chain._

_"Holly symbolizes the continuity of life, and the colors red and green are so similar to us, aren't they, Severus?" Hermione sighed happily._

_"I suppose so," Snape agreed reluctantly._

_“So, we have exchanged the presents and we have our new tradition now,” Hermione nodded determinedly and kissed Severus on the cheek._

****

The pendant and the wristwatch were lying on the mantelpiece, another Christmas was approaching, and Severus desperately wanted to turn back time and create as many traditions as possible with Hermione.


	5. Grapevine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! All the love to my amazing Beta thislifeisawasteland

The snow on the Scottish hills melted away with the spring, exposing the windswept land. The water in the puddles reflected the gray sky, dark clouds were coming from the West, foreshadowing an imminent snowfall. There was no hope for sunny days to thaw the icy lands.

Madam Pomfrey stepped away from the window, wrapped herself tighter in a yellow knitted shawl. Hermione had made it for her as a gift for Christmas. The mediwitch threw another log into the fireplace and hung her copper kettle, greening with age, from a hook over the fire. Minerva, who dropped in for evening tea, calmly checked the homework of the fifth-year students.

"Very well, Poppy, tell me, what could go wrong?" Minerva finally looked up at Poppy, after crossing out six sentences at once a boy named Scott's poorly researched essay.

"Everything could go wrong, Minerva!" Poppy cried, pursing her lips. “This is Severus we are talking about, you can never be sure when it comes to him!"

“Okay, shall we think logically? Severus would spend this last year in the past, he would gain the opportunity to better understand himself and Hermione, he might be able to prevent the tragedy, and he would come back to us at the end. We would win!"

"Such an optimistic Gryffindor you are!" Poppy snorted. "It seems to me, you don't know our Severus at all. Everything was always too difficult when it concerned him and Hermione. Severus almost died from Nagini's bite, we barely managed to save his life, he spent an exceedingly long time recovering, and after all that, he reluctantly agreed to return to Hogwarts. Then he met Hermione after she had come to Hogwarts to become Remus' Apprentice, and she and Severus had been fighting ever since. Later that year, she lost Ron, the Ministry issued this damned Marriage Law, and Severus had no choice but to offer Hermione his help. And you are proposing to immerse him in that crazy year one more time! This is inhuman!" Poppy huffed annoyingly.

“Ma chèrie, it would be inhuman to leave everything as it is. To watch Severus slowly sink into depression, having lost the meaning of life… Optimism or not, but sometimes you need to have the courage to take the first step. Besides, Poppy, Severus still does not know many facts from his own past. Who knows, maybe if he had known everything, he would have understood his wife earlier and far better.”

“Oh, yes, especially if he knew that Hermione demanded the Unbreakable Vow from you when we saved Severus' life that terrible night in the Shrieking Shack,” Poppy grumbled, still disapproving of the Gryffindor plans and strategies.

“Of course, or how you stopped Severus' soul from tarnishing itself with Avada's curse and secretly killed Albus yourself, didn't you, Poppy?” Minerva arched an eyebrow. “And you dare to blame my House for our mindless courage.”

“Healers have the inviolable right to use all three Unforgivable without harming themselves,” Poppy lifted her chin. “Plus, Albus wouldn’t have survived that year anyway, so we could say that our plans quite successfully intervened in his sophisticated scheme of planning revolutions from scratch. We saved Severus's life."

"Let me correct you, Poppy, it was Hermione who saved his life," Minerva said meticulously, recalling that terrible day.

_Heavy grey clouds were forming over Hogwarts. A disgusting fine rain was like a thick mist in the air, the smell of dampness hung like a premonition of an upcoming disaster. The Shack smelled of mold, blood, and despair. Somewhere in the distance, the sounds of battle raged, the cries of the fighters rang out, and the groans of the wounded echoed. The girl, dressed in ripped, frayed jeans and a baggy stretched sweater, did not hear the battle as she made her way towards the Shack. She was determined to change the course of history and even if she failed to save the world, she still could still save at least one life. Suppressing her bursting sobs of panic, she drew a silvery arc in the air and the Otter Patronus rushed off in search of the Head of Gryffindor._

_He was not breathing. The girl fell in shock, kneeling in front of the wounded professor. Through the pounding of blood in her eardrums, she caught the slightest vibrations of air, barely audible cat footsteps, and a hardly perceptible breath. A lacerated wound on her professor's neck pulled the girl's attention, her brain feverishly attempted to pull forward any of the healing spells in her arsenal._

_“Miss Granger…” the professor wheezed, gathering his strength._

_“Hush, sir, you are not allowed to talk,” Hermione whispered strictly and, opening her beaded bag, buried her nose inside._ He couldn't just die here, there must be some remedy! At least something! _Hermione’s inner voice screamed. Professor Snape did not hear her desperate thoughts, instead, he reached for her hand and squeezed it with all his power, as if trying to say something. Surely he was going to say another highly moral nonsense about the Great Battle going right behind them, or about saving heroes and leaving criminals to die. Hermione had many sarcastic opinions on this matter, but she had nor the time, nor the wish to share her views with Snape who was barely clinging to life._

_McGonagall, having already transformed out from her animagus form, quietly appeared behind and put her hand on Hermione's hunched back._

_“Vulnera Sanentur, girl, I think Severus is trying to tell you exactly these words. Are you familiar with the spell?"_

_Having noted the understanding in Hermione's eyes, Snape squeezed out an uneven breath, almost choking on his own blood before passing out with a sense of accomplishment. Hermione grabbed the wand and began to weave a complex healing charm, hoping she would have enough power to perform. Minerva McGonagall unceremoniously opened her best student's bag and purposefully began to look for something._

_"I assume our plan is still valid?" Minerva asked, waiting for Miss Granger to be silent for a moment, catching her breath for a new series of spells._

_"The potion of Life-giving blood is in my jeans pocket, if you're ready, then I'm ready," Hermione replied._

_  
Minerva shook her head at such recklessness:_ simply unbelievable, it was the most valuable potion, brewed from the rarest ingredients that she and Poppy managed to get by hook or by crook, and this girl kept it in her jeans pocket! Thank Merlin, Severus had passed out and didn't hear all this nonsense!

_A draught of Life-giving blood, or Animam Sanguinis, was the potion which recipe Poppy was able to find in a treatise on the dark arts by a seventeenth-century Provence magician who narrowly escaped the fire of the Inquisition. According to eyewitnesses, the sorcerer lived in a stone castle on the outskirts of the forest and, in the best traditions of Gothic novels, instilled fear in all residents of the surrounding settlements. Rare daredevils dared to ask the wizard for help when things were going badly, but it was said that he never refused anyone. The sorcerer had a daughter, a talented sorceress who followed in her father's footsteps and brewed potions for the royal court. Admirers wooed her from all sides of the country, but the proud woman preferred solitude and her herbs. Once the rejected gentleman, a very capable magician, decided to take revenge and poisoned the sorcerer's daughter with his own poison, which had no equal._

_The sorcerer spent days and nights brewing the antidote, having tried all the combinations of herbs and healing charms he knew, until one day he decided to take a risky step - he mixed sapphire powder, ginseng root, young mandrake embryos, grape bark, liquid gold, and his own blood._

_The blood of any creature at all times was considered a sacred substance that bore magic and gave life, transfusing blood meant taking away magic, but the sorcerer was on the verge of despair. Having healed his daughter with the potion, he gave her, in the same way, a part of his life force, and his spell saved her life._

_Hermione ignored the prejudices of the sorcerers both ancient and modern, giving the potion drop by drop to Severus, and resolutely placed her wand to the Dark Mark pulsing on his wrist._

_“Hermione, this is too dangerous! I can't risk you like that!"_

_"Professor McGonagall, I won't change my mind about this plan, and truthfully, I would rather send him to St. Mungos, but we have no time, and you will be much more useful on the battlefield than I am, so, please, either help me or leave."_

_"My darling, your magic is drawing the power for the spell from your own aura, if it drains your magical reserve, you both will die!"_

_“So, help us, Professor, this is our last chance."_

_McGonagall didn't dare to object anymore, placing her palm on Hermione's back and sharing her own power with them. Hermione took Severus's hand and, concentrating, chanted the words in old French. Drop by drop, syllable by syllable, her aura glowed with golden light, enveloping them in a shimmering dome of pure light. Slowly, as if seconds stretched out into eternity, Severus began to come to his senses, the wound on his neck healed, bruises and cuts smoothed out, his pulse began to beat, the Dark Mark turned pale. McGonagall shook Hermione by the shoulder._

_“Enough, my girl, the magic of the Mark is too dark to try to get rid of it right now. You need to rest, then I'll call Poppy, and we can handle it ourselves."_

_  
Shaking with exhaustion, Hermione struggled to her feet and demanded eagerly from Minerva:_

_“Professor, you must make me an Unbreakable Vow that you will never, under any circumstances, tell Professor Snape that I saved his life! I don’t want him to owe someone a Life debt. He earned his right to be free, and I... Please, Professor McGonagall, take the Vow!"_

_Poppy Pomfrey, who arrived just at the moment to hear this conversation, had no choice but to witness the oath._

***

Severus stared thoughtfully at Lupin, who stood at attention in front of him, like a student before the headmaster. An incomprehensible rage and a fit of jealousy splashed in Severus' soul, but Remus did not notice the confusion of his interlocutor.

“Here, Severus, I was sorting through old papers, and found Hermione's diary, so I thought it might be useful for you."

With that, Lupin handed Snape a thick notepad with a holly print on the cover, not noticing how Severus turned pale when he looked at the picture.

“Do you remember how she was always writing something, or constantly drawing some kind of charts and pinning her hair with her wand, an unimaginable recklessness, in my opinion,” Lupin said with sadness in his voice and, without waiting for a response, left the laboratory.

Snape carefully, as if afraid to break the fragility of the moment, flipped through the pages, gazing at the characteristic curve of the letter "a", at the sharp "k", at the ridiculous markings in the margins, at the ornate curls of new spells, and suddenly froze as if thunderstruck, almost dropping the diary.

 _But, of course! Hermione's stupid habit of stirring potions with her wand instead of the string rod! She constantly ignored his comments and never used a stirrer!_ The vinewood of her wand, coming into contact with the vapors of the potion, always sparked, adding new elements to the elixirs and tinctures.

The vinewood was considered a symbol of immortality and eternity. And it seemed to be exactly the final ingredient that Severus lacked for his Potion of Pristine Memories.

"Oh, how clever you are, my dear heart! You can't even imagine how clever you are!" Snape whispered to the diary and stroked the holly on the cover with his fingertips.


	6. Narcissus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! Sending all my love to the amazing thislifeisawasteland =)

Lupin carefully stirred the sugar in his cup of milk tea. He always considered tea an excellent remedy for headaches. The mediwizards, however, would likely argue with him about this issue. The full moon brought Remus migraines, so he simply sat in his office reviving his past fears and remembering old heartache. The potion brewed by Severus dutifully waited on the windowsill. Lupin drank his tea and pondered.

  
Every month, when the full moon was shining from the sky, Remus remembered his true essence and all his losses. Unable to bear his loneliness, he went to his office, closed the heavy curtains, and remembered his wife who died in that thrice-damned Last Battle. Lupin no longer believed in the highest moral ideals that the now deceased Albus used to stuff his head with. If it was possible to replay everything, Remus would take Tonks by the hand and apparate far, far away, where it was warm, safe and where were no cunning Headmasters inspired everyone with funny stories about duty, moral, and one true choice.

  
Teddy was staying with Harry, there was no need to worry about the safety of his son, so Lupin indulged in his sad thoughts alone. He had long guessed about Minerva and Poppy's cunning plan, and when he caught sight of Hermione's diary with her calculations for the Potion of Pristine Memories, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Severus planned to return to the past and prevent the tragedy that happened to his wife. Overcoming his own jealousy, Lupin admitted that Snape would probably succeed.

  
Remus asked himself, _would I have the courage to take such a step?_ To have the courage to see his wife again, to go all the way from indecisive courtship to her confident wish to become his life partner. To wait for Teddy to be born, to rush headlong into the very thick of the Battle and... to fail to save Tonks last-minute. Remus missed the deadly spell. He did not manage to counter the crazy killing curse shot from the tip of the wand of one Death Eaters. No, Remus could never live through that again. Time had passed. Life went on. Tonks was dead. Remus lived. However, Severus had a completely different opinion on that matter and did not take into account the sentimental beliefs of the overly brave Gryffindors.

  
Remus, admittedly, thought that with the death of Hermione, his cautious partnership with Snape would end. The more he remembered the past, the more he became convinced that Severus' former dislike, even hatred, for the last of the Marauders had not gone anywhere, but he was wrong.

  
When the Ministry passed their ludicrous Marriage Law, Hermione was just doing an apprenticeship for the Defense Against the Dark Arts degree, preparing to become a curse breaker for Gringotts. Therefore, she needed to learn certain skills. Once complaining to Minerva that no one wanted to take a war heroine and a witch who was too smart for any internship position, Hermione immediately got both a mentor and a place to practice.

  
Remus grinned sadly, remembering what a huge scandal Snape had thrown that day when, during one of the meetings in the staff room, Minerva announced to everyone that Hermione would be arriving at Hogwarts very soon. To this day, Lupine did not know what had angered Severus that day, but his wolf instinct told him that Potions Master was driven by banal jealousy.

  
It seemed that Snape was trying, and failing, to figure out how Remus had managed to establish friendly relations with his former student, and even take her as a godmother for Teddy. While Severus himself simply kept fighting with Hermione for no reason and with so little provocation. The past war had an immense impact on everyone, but instead of wallowing in misery, Hermione refused to live in the past and went on. Remus followed her example. They fought in duels, practicing especially insidious tricks, brewed antidotes, and looked for forgotten spells in ancient treatises. They took Teddy to zoos and museums, had long deep conversations, and drank tea with milk and two sugars.

Remus was the first to console Hermione when the Marriage Law was passed but he did not offer to take her as his wife. He was already married in the past and had a child, so he did not fall under the article of the Law. Quite simply, Remus never considered Hermione more than a good friend and a godmother to his son.

  
This, however, didn't stop Severus from being jealous.

  
Remus drank his tea, stirred sugar, and thought _I want Severus to succeed, they were a too perfect match to just let it go._

***

Lucius Malfoy slowly sipped his firewhiskey and watched the flame reflecting in the edges of the glass. A quiet evening in the company of an old friend was somewhat spoiled by the nervous beat that the aforementioned friend tapped out with a ballpoint pen on the table surface. With every passing second, Lucius was beginning to lose patience.

  
“Severus, my friend, could you please stop?

  
"I couldn't. If this annoys you, I dare not delay you any longer,” Snape snapped, the nervous beat becoming more abrupt and disgusting.

  
Lucius sighed, poured himself another round, and looked closely at Snape. He had gone bad over the past year and a half. The loss of his wife affected him so deeply, depression pulled him further into its exhausting embrace. Even the students noticed that their professor, who had instilled terror in many generations before them, became unusually quiet and thoughtful. Not that Snape had ever been overly verbal, he had rarely raised his tone of voice before, preferring cold, insinuating fury to hysterical screams. Severus’ current silence put Lucius on guard.

  
"Imagine, Lucius, I could see her again," Snape whispered, struggling to cope with his nervousness. Lucius set the glass down on the table, turned the heat in the fireplace, and stared at Severus.

  
"Mon ami, it is perfectly normal to be nervous. You are traveling back in time. Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time. But she is your wife, what could worry you about that?"

  
Snape clutched the Time-Turner in his hands, which he had never parted with for some time, and admitted with a sigh: "I'll see her again. I still can't believe it."

  
Lucius nodded in understanding: Narcissa worried him too much lately, and he owed Severus her health and well-being. When the Malfoy mansion was under the close control of Voldemort, Narcissa was kept under the Imperius so that she would not dare to interfere in her husband's affairs and the Lord's plans. It was Severus who first noticed the oddities in her behavior and taught her how to use the Occlumency shields and fool Voldemort. However, no matter how skillfully Narcissa tried to prevent intrusion into her mind, long resistance to one of the three Unforgivables took its toll on her health.

  
“I owe you a lot, mon ami, and I can hardly ever repay,” Lucius began, waving his hand at Snape's objection. "I would very much like advise you on something, to show my support, but in this current situation you would have to face your battle alone."

  
"It's better than nothing, Lucius."

  
“If I were you, I would have done the same. I would not have been able to mourn Narcissa and move on like our mutual familiar werewolf from Gryffindor."

  
"Which is strange, you know, wolves, after all, they choose a mate for life..."

  
"We are not wolves, Severus, we are much more terrible and much more loyal, therefore, I will support any of your decisions. No matter if you fail or win."

  
“You take care of yourself, Lucius, you are the only family I have left,” Severus said softly and shook the outstretched hand.

In the evening Narcissa came to visit. They had a long and very strong friendship, stronger than with Lucius, Minerva, or anyone else, not that Severus could boast of many friends.

_When he was a timid and silent third year, Narcissa was a brilliant Slytherin prefect, adored by the boys and the envy of her fellow girls. She did not divide the faculties into friends and foes, and the first years always followed her and listened to her stories._

_Since childhood, Narcissa Black had been considered a faded copy of her overly bright sisters. Andromeda was given the title of Heiress of the Family, Bella was waiting for a lucrative marriage contract, and only little Cissy, as usual, cried in the corners when Sirius happened to throw out a particularly cruel joke._

_  
The youngest, not distinguished by any particularly outstanding talents, "flower girl" on the canvas of dazzling constellations. Narcissa, unlike the patron of her name, had never been distinguished by pride and bombast. She was distinguished by the ability to notice details, unravel the tricks of Sirius, prevent possible tantrums of her sister, Bellatrix, and paint stunning landscapes. It was for such an exquisite occupation that poor half-blood Snape once noticed her._

_  
The place under the willow has long become a quiet haven among the students of Hogwarts who yearned for peace and quiet, but only a select few knew how to impose Silencio and avert the eyes of overly curious fellow students. Therefore, at first, both Narcissa and Snape were busy each with their own landscape and their own thoughts._

_  
Narcissa, dreamily, ran her paintbrush across the canvas, painting a blizzard in the Forbidden Forest, Severus doing the same with a piece of coal on gnawed parchment._

_  
It began to snow suddenly, the wind tore the brush out of Narcissa's fingers, wet Severus's drawing, and drove the unfortunate children under the Willow._

_"Just a second," Snape muttered, stroking his palm up the trunk. "Here! Come in quickly!'_

_  
Without further explanation, he pulled Narcissa inside the tree, and she realized with admiration that Willow was hiding many more secrets, much more charming than fighting branches._

_  
"What is this place?"_

_  
"This is my refuge," Snape replied with the pride common to all boys of fifteen and pointed to the canvas, which Narcissa was still clutching to her chest. "May I have a look?"_

_  
"Only if you show me yours," Narcissa replied reaching her hand to Severus' parchment, Snape was embarrassed._

_  
"It is terrible, and the parchment is old."_

_  
"It's not the technique that is important, it is the content that is important. By the way, I'm Narcissa, my friends call me Cissy. And since you saved me from the blizzard, I will take you by secret passages to our dungeons, my cousin showed me."_

_  
"I am Severus, may I call you Narssie?"_

And now Snape was looking at Narcissa, standing in front of him, and the same Willow, and the lake, and the drawings spoiled by the blizzard, and the warmth that the "flower girl" gave him, appeared before his inner gaze.

  
Narcissa didn’t waste time on some idle chatter, but stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Severus.

  
"Oh, my sweet darling! You will succeed, I promise you."

  
Just like in childhood, when he hid a broken nose from the brilliant prefect, or ran away from the Marauders, or slept under the door to the Gryffindor common room, Narcissa would find him over and over again and unceremoniously hugged him, shoved candy to his palm and called him "sweet darling." Overwhelmed with loneliness and eternal misery, Severus allowed her to call him so. 

  
"Narssie, I'm so scared."

  
Only to her and, perhaps, Poppy Pomfrey, Severus could admit that he was scared. One more time he felt like a confused boy who painted landscapes on a scrap of old parchment.

  
Narcissa put her hands around his face and looked seriously into his eyes.

  
“I want you to know that you always have somewhere to return. Whatever the outcome, we'll be waiting for you."

  
"I would ask you to Obliviate me if I fail."

  
“But you can't. You would want to keep at least a memory of her to yourself. And you won't lose, you don't just don't know how to."

***

  
Severus lifted Crooks in his outstretched arms and looked into the yellow eyes, too understanding for a cat.

  
"I can't leave you here, can I, Furball? Therefore, you will come with me."

  
There was no time left to hesitate, so Snape counted out the required number of turns, swallowed the potion in one gulp, and closed his eyes.

Time to face the past.


	7. Camellia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! Thank you to my wonderful and the most amazing Beta thislifeisawasteland. Sending all my love and gratefulness :)
> 
> Generally, camellia flowers symbolize love, affection, and admiration. ... White camellias symbolize adoration and are given to someone who is well-liked. Pink camellias symbolize a longing for someone and are given to someone who is missed. Red camellias symbolize love, passion, and deep desire.

The mist spread over the water. The evening gloom slowly crept into London, bringing autumn dampness and smell of smoke wafted in the wind. Somewhere someone had lit their fireplace to welcome the upcoming Samhain. They were likely cozy with their family, cooking a stew and drinking herbal tea.

A man wrapped in a light raincoat, not suitable for the current freezing weather, could not afford such a luxury. He walked in defiance of the gusts of wind, bending his head and clutching the cat closer to his chest. The cat was disheveled and frightened by the impending storm, seeking comfort in his owner’s arms.

It seemed that these unfortunate travelers were alone against the whole world, fought their own battles, and pursued their own journeys. A frozen traveler and a ginger cat. They had one goal one shared determination.

Cars, always hurrying somewhere, flew past them, spraying water from puddles on unlucky passers-by. Gasoline stains on the asphalt for a moment turned the gray reality into a bright rainbow.

Snape's whole life remained over the horizon. Somewhere in the past, autumn flew by imperceptibly, mingling with the smell of leaves that smelled of smoke, the first ice that covered Black Lake, the cry of birds flying away, and, perhaps, the flame of the fire that Hermione taught him to light by evenings.

She taught Snape to love flames. The fire burned all bad thoughts and scattered the shadows of the night that descended on the world. Reddish flashes shimmered with all shades of crimson, reflecting from the water surface, warming, and giving hope.

_"You know, as a child, I often wondered, was it scary for the leaves to burn?" Hermione said quietly, peering into the flames. Snape sat next to her, trying not to think about anything. Crooks was running after some nocturnal creatures, frequently pulling his attention from the silence by skittering across the floor. Snape did not want to answer her question._

_“No, Hermione, it’s not scary, they’ve already died, the dead do not feel pain,” Snape replied cynically._

_Hermione sighed and lowered her eyes. Firewood crackled, smoke from pine branches tickled her nostrils, dark gray clouds gathered in the sky._

_"Were you afraid to die?"_

_Snape was silent, not knowing what to answer. When his life was leaving him with every ragged breath, he desperately wanted to grab luck by the tail and replay everything._

The leaves, twisting, burnt out in the flames. There was a smell of dampness, the stars were hiding behind clouds, the night was falling on the world.

All his regrets were in the past, next to the flames of the fire, unanswered questions, and unspoken promises. Now he confidently walked towards her house, noticing neither the rain, nor the slush squelching under his feet, nor the cars flying past. Nothing but his own determination and the cat tousled with cold.

Very soon, he would return to his chambers at Hogwarts, he would light the fireplace and try to get his life together. Severus' past and new memories blended, forming complete chaos in thoughts. He succeeded, he moved into the past a whole year and a half back, and Hermione's potion turned out to be effective: Snape remembered everything. It only made matters worse.

He wanted to see her again, and horror fettered him at the thought of it. What if she would guess about his intention to change the future? What if he had already disrupted the course of things, and this time the Ministry would not issue their stupid decree that made Hermione his wife? What if now Ron Weasley would be able to avoid death, and he would have time to become her husband instead of Snape?

Feeling that everything inside was growing cold from the realization of such a possibility, Snape lifted his collar, simultaneously wondering which gateway to look into to cast a warming charm, and confidently moved on. This was not the time to panic. Reinforcing Occlumency's shields and sending disturbing ideas to the farthest corners of his mind, Snape tested his wand and sat down wearily on a bench.

The lantern fought hard against the rain pouring down from above. Drizzle shimmered in the dim yellow light, and the trees cast tailed shadows. The wind was blowing. The weather was nowhere more disgusting. Snape breathed into his frozen palms and finally cast a warming charm. Crooks crawled under his cloak with an indignant yowl and purred, trying to keep warm.

"Now, Furball, wait a bit, we will go in a minute. I need to collect my thoughts first."

Anxiety grew, bypassing his Occlumency's shields and iron restraint. Snape was most afraid that life would again confront him with his own wrong choice, would make him see how his beloved woman chose another man, and plunge him into the loneliness of his mind. His mind where thoughts screaming in every way became deafening, and his despair became unbearable.

He was not used to the lingering, but now panic seemed to chain him to the bench, and Hermione's house was only a few feet away. Snape couldn't bring himself to take the steps. Again, all those who left him in one way or another stood before his inner gaze. A mother who could not stand the bullying of her husband. Albus, whom he somewhat hated and admired to some extent. It was the Headmaster who once accepted him as a prodigal son and gave him a home. Yes, the old man dragged him into his cunning plans and grand schemes. While, at the same time, he gave him a job, an opportunity to do research, rooms to come to in the evening, and a roof over his head. With a bitter grin, Snape recalled those he considered his friends. Narcissa, Lucius, Minerva, Poppy, Lily. All his life he dreamed of a chance to fix everything, and when fate put such an opportunity in his hands, he was hesitating on a bench under the lantern.

It seemed to Snape that he was falling into the abyss and still could not reach the bottom. In the pitch darkness, faces flashed, briefly able to give him light.

He remembered his past once again.

_Darkness hung over his childhood house. The wind howled through the cracks of the impoverished mansion, and glass shattering in the frames. Trees left their freakish shadows on the walls, and their long tails drove a boy of six years into a silent horror. The boy looked out of the window in the attic. His mother, a quiet and inconspicuous woman, used to tell her son when her husband wasn’t listening, that darkness meant only the absence of light and there was no need to be afraid. At night, however, the father who had lost his job came back home from dusty bars, and screams echoed around the house. And the little boy sent himself to the attic. In the attic, he looked into the night, and the darkness that hung above the house._

_The Muggle and the Witch, the heiress of an ancient House of Prince, who dared to go against the age-old foundations of her family, by chasing after a ghostly love. Eileen Prince had never been outstanding, she used to hide in the shadow of her father, and as a result, she became a ghost of her own self by marrying a Muggle. At first, she tried to fight for her son, but the shadows were loomed above her head all that time, threatening to swallow her alive. And in the end, they succeeded. The son became an orphan with living parents. The father, unable to bear responsibility for the family, was broken by poverty and misery, the mother was carried off by some incurable illness. Only the night remained in the boy's life. And the light of the stars could no longer drive the long-tailed shadows away._

_When he was nine, and the night no longer frightened him with its inevitable darkness. In the back yard of a beautiful house where a happy family lived, there was a swing. A girl sat on that swing. Her ginger hair glowed in the sun and she was fascinated by the daisy growing in the palm of her hand. It seemed that the whole world could submit to her warmth and smiles. Her laughter was heard even from the stars. The boy gleamed with pride. This girl considered him her friend. For the first time, someone cared about him and his existence. For the first time, he was next to a friend who chose to stay by his side. For the first time in his life, the sun rose, and this new personal sun of his had a smile of Lily Evans._

_The Hogwarts letter was supposed to mean happiness. His mother smiled for the first time in years, the father joyfully said that "this house would be calmer without this freak," and everything spun, swirled, rushed. The night receded, giving way to an animated fairy tale from those few stories that Eileen Prince used to tell him before bed. He did not believe in fairy tales, but there was the letter, and it promised him a miracle._

_The train set off into the world of light. Unfamiliar boys joined him and Lily in the compartment. They proudly proclaimed they did not want to have anything to do with the freak with greasy hair and a large nose. They scoffed at his ill-fitted clothes and mocked his silence. He looked over to his friend who became red and said nothing. The sun disappeared behind the clouds. The battle, of seven years long, began._

_There was too much darkness in his life, but he was not used to keeping his fears close to his chest. The impoverished life of a practically homeless boy, the eternal abuse and beatings from his father. He has the desperate desire to learn how to write, read, and do magic and just to be better than the others from his poor town. He wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of more than aimless existence, which taught him to rely solely on himself without waiting for help. For a while, however, a spark named Lily overshadowed everything else, and the shadows hid in the corners for a while._

There were too many differences between him and Lily: a bright friendly girl too quickly gained the fame of a universal favorite. He, on the other hand, was a gloomy and insecure boy who only seemed to gain enemies. Severus never cared about the consequences of his actions. Which was why, perhaps, he ruined everything he touched and pushed away the only friend who cared about him. The memory of that humiliating incident near the lake, his chagrin, and the agony of taunts from those who bullied him simply because they were bored. There was too much darkness in his life for light to break through, it was ingrained in his very soul.

When he became a Death Eater, he often wondered what was the exact moment when everything went wrong. It took him a long while before he finally understood that the darkness began creeping into his actions well before he pushed Lily away from him. Even before the time when the doors of his childhood home slammed behind his back and the gates of Hogwarts, a fairytale castle, were opened. Nobody cared for a poor half-blood with the cold exterior. Peers despised the tattered boy who, by a stupid accident, was sorted into Slytherin. A girl with a sunny smile made too many friends, and the Marauders continued their bullying. Humiliation and open threats were perceived by the good Headmaster in the yellow mantle as innocent tricks. The werewolf left without a leash was just a funny pet dog, " _my boy, do not think to tell anyone about Remus."_ He recalled how he sat on a bed in the Infirmary wing and looked at the foggy ghost of the moon. That was when he firmly decided to join the Death Eaters to find someone who cared among the same outcasts.

Darkness loomed over him, swallowing all the possible light and hope. Death followed death; one defeat gave rise to another. Nobody needed what he had to offer - neither the Dark Lord, master of Death Eaters, nor the good Headmaster who moved the Order like puppets in a play. What could Snape offer them? A life of servitude in exchange for Lily's safety? Who cared about the sullen ragged man? He was begging at the feet of both his Masters, of both Light and Darkness, hoping for something, anything resembling recognition.

He later asked himself if he loved Lily the way he thought he did, and with terrifying clarity, he came to the conclusion that everything bright in his life was somehow connected with her, and this light entailed inevitable darkness. So he continued to fight for one goal he knew, for a blind desire to prove to everyone that he was more than a spy, better than a traitor, and worth much more than a tattered man from a working quarter.

She crept into his life like light creeps into the cracks of a house as the sun rises. An insufferable know-it-all with hair sticking out in different directions and a million questions about everything at once and about nothing specifically. She was too far from Lily to even try to compare them. Different than any other witch or wizard he had ever met. She seemed to be the only one who was not afraid of the terrifying Professor Snape and his bad temper. She just looked into his eyes and saw something there. She wrote him ridiculous notes expressing her gratitude for saving her life after that incident with a basilisk in her second year or apologized for _accidentally_ , though he knew it was deliberate, setting his robe on fire in her first year. She would continuously thank him for the help after her failure with the Polyjuice potion.

He had dismissed her interest as nothing more than a teenage crush, multiplied by a lack of common sense. He did not value his life. He was not afraid to die. How could anyone else care if he did not?

_"I suppose you do not consider yourself a hero, but you are better than them. All of them, on both sides of the barricades."_

****

Snape transfigured his light raincoat into a warmer one more suitable for the current weather, tucked the cat under his arm, and confidently walked towards her house. In the small kitchenette, lights were on, dispelling the evening shadows. She always lit a light around her, be it candles, lamps, or Muggle electricity, she liked to say that there could never be too much light.

Snape stepped closer and, casting an invisibility charm, cautiously approached the window. Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table and enthusiastically scribbled something in her diary. Her hair was gathered in a kind of hairstyle, whisps tickling her face. She wore a bright orange sweater which emphasized the tan that had been preserved since summer and a tangle of bracelets on her wrist. Her house was cozy and light, pain splashed in his soul.

She was so close. It seemed that he needed to take only a step, and Hermione would be in his arms, but it was too early. A long time would pass before his timid daring could come true.

Someone knocked on the door and Hermione ran to open it. Sensing something bad, Snape looked closer and almost swore. _Of course, who else could it be if not Ron Weasley?_ Once again, his past stood before him, hurling the bitter truth in his face: his love was with another man.

Hermione pulled Ron into the kitchen and, stepping out of his embrace, began to quietly explain something to him. "You have to understand, Ron, I love you and all that, but tell me, why should we rush things?"

Weasley frowned, not ceasing to pester her with his affection. "Mum wants grandchildren, and I thought that we would get married immediately after the battle ended. Why are you hesitant, ‘mione?"

“You just joined the Auror's Department, I'm trying to complete my own education, we're still so young. We hardly enjoyed life."

"So? Why can’t we have both at the same time? Family and career?"

"And why can’t we just wait a few years?"

"You are obsessed with your career!"

"I didn’t take my NEWTS to knit booties by the hearth. You must understand, Ron! I want to visit my parents and restore their memories. I need the time to dedicate to my potions, I want to be successful. Ron, understand, I love you, but I'm not ready to become a housewife running around children all day."

“Are you saying you don’t want to be like my mother? Are you saying she’s not successful?"

"Ron, why are you twisting my words?"

Snape clenched his fists: couldn't she see that he didn't suit her at all? Didn't he understand that they had completely different goals in life? Like a scream from the past, the same scene flashed through Snape's thoughts: Black Lake, the seventh year, Lily and Potter, arguing with each other.

_"We have to leave, Jamie! We have to go into hiding. Now is such a dangerous time, why would you leave your family to serve in the Aurory?"_

_“I have to, Lils, Dumbledore believes in me, how can I fail him?"_

_"So, what about me? We have a child to take care of, I quit my job for this family! You’re choosing Dumbledore over me, again!"_

_"Lily, why are you twisting my words?"_

A year and a half later, the Potters were gone.

And just like that, in three weeks, the Dark Curse would take the life of Ron Weasley.

Snape closed his eyes, exhausted from the struggle to hold himself back. He wanted to jump in and rescue her, help her see how wrong the boy was for her. His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Hermione.

"Crooks has gone missing, you don’t even try to look for him! You only care about your Quidditch and Auror's Department!"

As the Weasley mumbled something encouraging in return, Crookshanks twisted out of Snape's arms and leaped onto the windowsill with an indignant meow.

"Crooksy! My dear boy, you are here!" Hermione gasped.

She threw open the window, her fingers almost grazing Snape as she wrapped her arms around her cat. Snape who stood frozen a couple of centimeters from her and watched as she slinked back into her home.

Apricots and heather. Snape took a deep breath as her scent engulfed him.

"You are here. You are here, my dear heart."


	8. Heather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! Thank you to my wonderful and the most amazing Beta thislifeisawasteland. Sending all my love and gratefulness :)
> 
> Heather means hesitation

The staff room was almost silent if not for the rattling of a teaspoon against the cup, roaring fireplace and two women huddled together. Engaged in some interesting gossip, their whispers filling the air. The Sorting Hat, brought here after the death of Albus, was singing quietly to itself. Crooks, brought to Hogwarts with his mistress, was purring in front of the fireplace. Snape winked to the cat and discreetly transfigured his quill into a small mouse for him to play with. Crooks let out a wild yowl and ran after his prey.

The Headmistress and her guest paid no attention either to Snape or to Crooks; they were too busy with their vivid discussion. Snape was too much of a spy to let their grapevine pass unheard, so he occupied the farthest corner of the room and eavesdropped.

Hermione was gesturing vividly and fervently complained to Minerva: “Could you imagine it, Professor? Ron just packed his suitcase and left for Romania to work with dragons with his brother. He just packed everything and left! He even left his Quidditch kit behind.”

Minerva slid her glasses back to the bridge of her nose, poured some tea to her guest’s cup, summoned more cookies. She paused, sighing. “I always considered mister Weasley a wrong match for you, my dear, so, I think, it’s high time for you to understand that yourself.”

“Professor, we were childhood friends! I’ve always thought we would leave Hogwarts and get married eventually,” Hermione cried, tears pricking her eyes.

“Well then, but what about your apprenticeship, career, and ambitions? I refuse to believe that my own Gryffindor cub was going to leave her studying behind to sequester yourself in the kitchen until your husband comes home from work.”

Snape laughed to himself. He had the same thoughts about Hermione’s potential marriage to the Weasley.

“No, professor, of course not. I was never going to be that kind of wife,” Hermione huffed indignantly, “It’s just, my life eventually hunted me down and I desperately wished for some “safe haven”. First, it was that Horcrux Hunting that nearly cost us our sanity, then I nearly lost my parents and in the end, we were to face that damned Great Battle that nearly cost us our life. I was tired, I wanted to find some peace, and Ron seemed like a peaceful place.”

“My child, are you sure that you can consider the impatient and bustling mister Weasley your “safe haven”?”

“I don’t know, Professor McGonagall. It always went without saying for me, I mean, I’ve known Ron since we both were eleven, he was there for me, he annoyed me with his behavior and always asked for help with his homework,” Hermione sighed sadly.

“Sure, he was there for you. But he left you during the winter, in the middle of the forest, alone with that Merlin-damned Horcrux,” Minerva replied, venom in her voice.

Snape almost wanted to applause her.

“Well, yes, he left me and Harry, but it is past time now, I could never hold a grudge against Ron,” Hermione answered, shaking her head.

“My dear girl, I doubt you are aware of the fact, but I was a childhood friend with our darling Albus Dumbledore, the Great Headmaster.”

Snape pricked his ears up. Hermione was not the only one who was unaware of that friendship.

"We were friends all our teenage years, all our youth and, it seemed, all our lives. His older brother was always lecturing us. We would always run away from him when we got bored with his judgments. We nicked sweets from the kitchen and we were just _happy_. It seemed to me that our friendship would last forever,” Minerva reminisced. “Albus amused me, he always invented games, made plans, dreamed of conquering the whole world. In a way, he even succeeded. We graduated from Hogwarts and went in different directions. Albus went to fight Grindelwald. I got married and followed him to Germany. My husband and I strove to prevent the war, Albus fought for Higher goals, too lofty for our understanding. He wanted to be a hero, he dreamed of atonement for his own sins, tried to earn the forgiveness of his dead sister. I just wanted to go home, to Scotland, where I would still be needed by someone. Where nothing would remind me that I lost my husband in another senseless war. That war, my dear girl, took too many lives. So, I returned home, and Albus and I once more met at Hogwarts. He was going to take over the post of Headmaster. I desperately wanted to find at least some job and a roof over my head. Albus provided me with both."

"So, you were friends all your life?" Hermione whispered in shock.

"You know, I suppose our friendship ended well before the war, but I, just like you, could not believe that my childhood friend would be blinded by fanatical dreams of power and dominance over the world. Albus built his great schemes under my very nose, and I refuse to notice them. We've trampled on the trust of too many, Hermione.” Minerva shook her head as she recanted her history. “Eileen Prince was my classmate, we kept in touch after school, that's why I knew about the situation in her family, so I tried to help, but Albus ordered me not to interfere. He said that since she was married to a Muggle, they would have to figure it out themselves. Augusta Longbottom, who stupidly lost her son and daughter-in-law in the last war, because, again, the Headmaster was sure that the two brave Aurors would be strong enough to fight. James and Lily Potter, who believed Albus without question, only seeing his good intentions. Sirius Black, who ended up in Azkaban without trial or investigation. Remus, who was denied a normal job everywhere… Albus never once bothered to write him a recommendation. Severus, whose trust I would never be able to win back and redeem myself. Harry, Ron, Draco, Luna, you - the list would be endless.”

Hermione tried to interrupt her with forgiveness.

“Oh, hush, Hermione, I don't need you to justify me here, I know perfectly well that I am to blame. I trusted my friend blindly, but he saw only his great intrigues and did not pay attention to the ruined destinies at all. I should have intervened, but I was too afraid to make the first step. He made plans, I dutifully followed him, refusing to doubt the correctness of his decisions," Minerva sighed, catching her breath.

After her words, there was a hum of silence in the staff room. Snape stared in awe of his colleague, his trusted friend, and one of the few he considered family. Hermione hugged a cup of tea with both hands and sat in stunned contemplation. All this time, it turned out, Minerva McGonagall knew about all the intricacies of the Headmaster that were being conducted right in front of her nose. She knew, but she never dared speak up. _Well_ , Severus thought, _everyone had their own path to repentance_. McGonagall smiled as if sensing the confusion of her colleague and dimmed the overly bright candlelight.

"Very well, enough about the past, my child, tell me, better, what do you intend to do next?"

"I will continue to fight with the Ministry for the right to obtain the degree of Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione sighed wearily and covered her face with her palms, muttering in a displeased voice. "I have no power to fight them, Professor! Tell me, why would I achieve the highest marks on all my exams if no one wants to deal with the former brains of the Golden Trio? Not that I’m becoming a lesser swot, but they act as if- as if- Oh, I don’t know. As if they are afraid of me. They don't want to deal with a war heroine."

“I think they're just a bunch of baboons,” Minerva squeaked indignantly. Snape, hiding in his corner, agreed in solidarity, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“And I would hate to leave Britain. I can, of course, fly to my parents in Australia. Or I could try my luck in France. I don’t understand why I should look for happiness around the world when my home is here. I don’t want to go anywhere else!"

Minerva was pensively silent for a while, listening to the silence and the measured tinkle of a teaspoon on a cup. Severus pretended to be absorbed in checking fifth-year essays. Hermione bit her lip nervously and glanced at her watch.

“I'll see what I can do about it,” Minerva finally concluded. "Pomona took Neville as her student, Filius took on Luna. I’m not getting younger, my child, it's time for Gryffindor to attend to its successors."

"Professor McGonagall, what do you mean? What successors? Are you leaving?" Hermione berated the professor, shocked at the vague statement. 

“Now-now, Hermione, I’m just talking about Gryffindor House. I’m not ready to part with the post of the Headmistress yet. However, I also have someone in mind to replace me in the worst-case scenario,” Minerva smiled. “In the meantime, I’m just talking about Remus returning to teach Defense, you seem to have had a friendly relationship, and I suppose he will not be disturbed by an apprentice." 

Severus clenched a regular ballpoint pen in his fist - he could not get rid of the habit of using ballpoint pens instead of quills imposed on him by Hermione. No, he did not need the post of a teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he had caused enough damage as Headmaster to even consider that post again. Deep in his soul, however, a wave of irritation arose. Once again, the Gryffindors were plotting under his very nose. Replacing him at every turn.

After settling organizational issues with Minerva, Hermione hurried to take her leave. Just as she was about to disappear through the door, she glanced back and noticed Snape hiding in the corner.

“I thought, Professor, that you would join our conversation,” she said with a smile, turning back around and striding towards him. She held out her hand and Snape hid the tremors in his hands as he shook it.

“I see no point in indulging in meaningless chatter, Miss Granger. I don’t believe I have anything to offer you."

"I dare not agree with you. You have always been considered one of the best specialists in Dark Arts. I was going to stop by later this evening and get your advice on the matter anyway. I’ll see you then?” Hermione said quickly and left, giving him no time to answer.

Minerva crept up to Snape, barely audibly, and stood beside him. “Don't be offended, Severus, but Remus needs this position more."

"And who said that I need this position? Perhaps I'm filing the same application year after year just to annoy you?"

"Severus, you want to appear colder than you really are," Minerva chided softly. “However, I came to tell you that Halloween is coming up, and I would like you and Miss Granger to chaperone at the traditional ball."

Damned Gryffindors, weaving their intrigues quietly and with a smile.


	9. Belladonna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! =) thanks to the amazing ThisLifeIsAWasteland

Luna Lovegood scrutinized the outfits spread out on the bed and shook her head skeptically. 

“No, Maya, this won't do, you’re not going to a boring meeting at the Ministry, you’re having a ball, do you hear me, a b-a-l-l!”

Hermione, hidden in the closet up to her shoulders, was looking for something in its farthest depths, not paying attention to either her friend's remarks or the nickname "Maya", which Luna persistently called her. Hermione remembered how one day, during a particularly talkative get-together on a Friday evening in the company of mulled wine and chocolate cake, she questioned Luna on it.

_"Why are you calling me Maya?"_

_Luna tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes a little, pondering the answer, or maybe she was looking for unknown creatures, visible only to her?_

_"You know, you could lead an army of heliopaths that burn everything in their path, at least you acted as such during the Battle of Hogwarts when October reigned in your soul."_

_"And now?" Hermione asked, somewhat confused by Luna's lengthy statement._

_"Now, Hermione, autumn in your soul is over, May has come, that's why you became Maya, but heliopaths are still ready to rush to your rescue if something happens."_

Hermione didn't know exactly when she and Luna got close. A strange girl, who was avoided by classmates and shunned by peers from other Houses, Luna Lovegood nevertheless won the respect of the professors. She was the first to understand who was fighting for Light and who was fighting for Darkness during the Battle. In Snape's final year as a Headmaster, Luna began studying healing under Madam Pomfrey's tutelage, so eventually, Luna became familiar with the secrets that were never spoken aloud. Therefore, Hermione was not at all surprised when Luna emerged, as if out of thin air in the midst of a battle and, grabbing her by the sleeve, dragged her somewhere in the direction of the Shrieking Hut, saying that Professor Snape needed help, and as soon as possible. Who knows what other secrets Luna saw in the people around her? If she did, she never let it slip. Instead dropping knowing suggestions in her unique ethereal way. With her inner instinct, Hermione knew that Luna would never betray her or betray her secrets.

"What do you suggest I wear?" Hermione asked from the depths of the closet and pulled out ripped jeans and a frayed T-shirt that looked like a perfect item from the late 70s. 

Luna giggled and clapped her hands.

"You can dress up like your mother! I think Professor McGonagall will appreciate this outfit particularly, or you can also dress up as your grandmother and dance rock and roll with Professor Snape."

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Luna, stop teasing me!"

"I am not teasing you, I am just saying that you need to unwind a little, Maya! You work day and night, you don't go out and you don’t even have plants because you don’t have time to care for them. Get a fabulous hairstyle, girl, put on a skirt, and make them envy you and your beauty!"

“Luna, I'm not going to a night club, you know” Hermione waved her friend's remark aside, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I was assigned to look after the students, so I am on business there, one might say."

“You are on business together with Professor Snape, mind you."

"I can already see his happy expression when he finds out about it," Hermione grinned. "Just imagine: a whole evening in the company of a Gryffindor swot, what a wonderful leisure!"

“And yet he allowed you to contact him with questions about the Dark Curses,” Luna objected.

"I didn't give him time to answer."

"Then you know what? Put aside that fairy rights manifesto you were about to put on your head and show me that chic dark green dress your parents gave you last Christmas."

“This is not a manifesto for the rights of fairies,” Hermione whined, offended. "This is the crown!" 

“Queen Mab's crown; shall I remind you that she was known for her bad reputation and she was red-haired. I think you have enough redheads in your life. You will be Persephone, I will lend you my garnet bracelet."

Hermione frowned. _"You've had enough of redheads in your life."_ Harry's mom was red-haired, Ron was also famous for his hair. Whatever Luna meant, she was somewhat right.

*****

Snape leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes: another pointless week flew by filling his thoughts with unnecessary worries and endless reflections on moral dilemmas. He managed to brew a potion of Pristine Memories, the recipe for which he sought out in Hermione's notes. Therefore, having connected with the previous version of himself, he managed to remember the whole past year with its sorrows and victories. However, time passed, and he had so much to fix. 

The last thing Severus wanted was to fix the past, to plot his strategy, and to plan his future. It was a shame to admit, but he was jealous of Crookshanks. The ginger mischief snuck into Hogwarts every night and invariably ended up in Snape's chambers. It seemed that the man and the cat had entered into some kind of pact of unwritten male solidarity. Deep down, Snape was proud that Crooks had chosen him as his master. That is, the cat chose Snape and not vice versa.

So now the cat was dozing by the fireplace, while Snape tried to hide from his own thoughts.

Moral dilemmas haunted him all his life. Whether he should have joined the Death Eaters or whether he should have listened to Dumbledore with his eulogies about love. Whether he should have warned the Potters about the Prophecy or whether he should have stayed loyal to the Dark Lord. Whether he should have got close to Minerva and Poppy, or whether he should have stayed true to Albus's senseless words about the eternal loneliness of a spy. Whether he should have proposed to Hermione, or whether he should have lived his life in the Slytherin dungeons in loneliness and misery. Whether he should have traveled the world or whether he should have returned to Hogwarts to try and make his dunderheads better people. So now Severus was contemplating whether he should be saving Ron Weasley to the detriment of his own happiness or not?

Severus squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine approaching, a red-hot nail being screwed into his temple, and colorful circles flickering before his eyes. Most of all he wanted to extinguish the candles, to close the curtains, to find a wet cloth somewhere, and to put it on his forehead, but the armchair was too comfy to leave it and go in search of a wet cloth, and over the years of serving two masters, he saw ailments worse than migraines. The headache, however severe, in Snape's opinion, was just an annoying misunderstanding.

Crooks jumped into his lap and curled up into a ball. Snape vaguely remembered that Muggles believed that cats helped to soothe headaches. Snape closed his eyes and decided to hope for a miracle. Heavy thoughts buzzed in his head.

Snape had been keeping an eye on Ron for the past week, learning his schedule better than his own. On Monday Ron played Quidditch with Potter. On Tuesday he visited his parents. On Wednesday Ron dropped in to see George. On Thursday afternoon, Ron visited Fred, who fell into a coma after the Battle and was being treated at St. Mungo's. And Friday was marked by the traditional drinking at the "Hog's Head". Snape followed Ron like a shadow, invisible to everyone, but too dangerous for those who were looking for adventures in smoky bars.

The Weasley boy was slowly but surely drinking his life away. Snape had seen this habit too often with his own father, so he could not stand aside. Potter was always busy either serving in Aurory Department, spending his days in amorous affairs with the youngest Weasley, or haunting the remaining Death Eaters down. Ron, on the other hand, was too mired in post-traumatic stress to be able to get out alone.

It was in vain that the Weasley believed that Hermione would become his wife, that she would give birth to a bunch of children, and everything would as it was before: sunny, warm, and happy. Snape didn't believe in happy endings. Too often in the past, Snape had caught Hermione's absent gaze when she suddenly happened to freeze in the middle of a conversation and stare into nothingness. Too often, his Slytherins came to see him on weekends to watch him check his essays or work on a particularly insidious potion. They desperately wanted to feel that everything was the same again, and there was no war, no Great Battle, no threat to life. Too often, Snape himself had wondered if the Wizarding world could benefit from good therapists. The Muggles understood PTSD far better than the all-mighty wizards. 

Because of this, Snape perfectly understood what kind of illness Ron Weasley had been suffering from, and, having experienced the same kind of illness in the past, Snape also knew how to treat PTSD. There was no better remedy for depression than travel or a banal change of activity. This was Severus's opinion, and mediwizards could disagree with him - he rarely paid attention to those who disagreed.

Yes, Hermione and Weasleys were childhood friends, they had a short romance that ended in nothing good. In the end, as it goes, Ron died tragically on the eve of the Marriage Act. Snape knew about all this. He could let everything take its course, letting the boy die, and then Hermione would become _his_ wife, continuing to remember her dead first love. He could intervene, he could save Ron's life, and he could hope that everything would work itself out. Snape chose the third option instead: he planned to prevent the Weasley boy from dying, using all this Slytherin cunning and subtlety.

Tincture of belladonna and asphodel gave a unique opportunity to inspire a person with the necessary information and remain unnoticed to everyone.

Snape used this potion many times during his time as a spy. The potion and his innate talent for Occlumency allowed him to whisper to the victim the plan of action he needed. It was not difficult to track Ron down. As with every previous Friday, Ron was down at Hog’s Head, drinking his pain away. A skillfully applied illusion charm made Severus unrecognizable to the possible fellow wizards, so when Ron staggered out of the bar, Snape was already waiting for him in a secluded corner.

"Hey, mate, d'ya have a smoke?" Ron muttered in a tangled tongue.

Perfect, the Weasley boy was not only addicted to alcohol, but he also hell-bent on destroying his lungs as well. Not that Snape would refuse a good cigar and a glass of fire whiskey, but the Weasley's addictions left much to be desired. Severus winced at the smell of cheap liquor hitting his senses and thrust the bottle of potion under Ron's nose.

"Legillimens!"

As the vapors of belladonna and asphodel put Ron into a stupor, Snape peered into his eyes, whispering his hypnosis :

_"It makes no sense to stay in Britain and drink your last money. You need to go to Romania, working with dragons tempers and disciplines. Alcohol won't solve your problems. So you must leave. At dawn. With the very first portkey to Bucharest. And it is worth looking for information on how to find yourself a psychotherapist. You and Hermione are too different. You wouldn't have succeeded anyway."_

_"And stop smoking that stench already, boy!"_ Snape muttered at last and cut the connection. Without giving Ron time to recover, he put the portkey to Bucharest in his palm. After doing so, Snape Apparated to Hogwarts. 

In the evening, Hermione would visit Minerva and she would complain about Ron, who left for Romania and left her alone. Snape would smile with satisfaction: his little intrigue proved to be successful. Well, after all, Hermione was his wife, and he wasn't going to give her to another man without a fight. Especially if this other man never really appreciated her.

Snape felt a pang of pity in his heart: not long ago he himself was hardly different from the Weasley, having spent three months out of six on pointless altercations with Hermione. Now he was determined to change everything, but he was bound hand and foot. The rules of time travel forbade changing the course of things, he had already intervened in the past, when he saved Ron's life, now he had to be careful.

The Ball was approaching, at which they would have to look after the younger children crazed from freedom and the older over hormonal teenagers in love, in a word, everything that Snape could not stand with every fiber of his soul. But she would be at the Ball, and this fact slightly lifted his spirits. The main concern remained the same: how could he convince himself to stay away from Hermione? She was his wife after all and Snape hated time travel rules.


	10. Snowdrops

Hermione entered the Great Hall and froze in indecision, unable to take the first step. Hogwarts was glittering in all shades of red, orange, and yellow festive lights. A flock of bats descended from the ceiling, making different sounds, like dripping water, then the howling of the wind, or the laugh of an old crone. Luna was particularly proud of this enchantment — it was her exam project for Professor Flitwick.

The third-years lurked in a corner near the table with an alcoholic punch, intending to grab a glass for themselves, but Pomona Sprout's stern look made them scatter. Head of Hufflepuff was often underestimated as a typical representative of the kind-hearted "badgers", but it was even more often forgotten that the badger, forced to protect its cubs, becomes more terrible than a lioness and more resourceful than a snake. Waving her hand after the scattered students, Pomona smiled good-naturedly, poured herself with some bright green punch, and settled comfortably by the column, with her knitting needles and a haft-knitted sock.

Hermione smiled sadly as she watched the scene.

It seemed that everything in Hogwarts remained the same. The walls of the Great Hall never heard the screams of battle, the Black Lake never saw blood, the children were still inventing pranks - cruel and not so much. Their faces were not frozen with an expression of forever bitterness, and their dreams were not haunted by nightmarish visions from the past.

Hermione felt as if she had only to close her eyes, and Harry and Ron would appear as if out of thin air to re-invent new strategies, break the rules, race along the corridors, and sneak into their common rooms long after curfew. They’d steal chocolate pies from the kitchen and devour them as they laughed by the Gryffindor fireplace. It seemed that her childhood lurked behind a pillar and watched as Pomona Sprout continued her multi-colored project to present to her colleagues for Christmas. 

  
The Halloween Ball was in full swing, but Hermione was feeling lousy.

Hermione had not realized until now how lonely she had become since Ronald’s departure. Everyone was busy with their own business, and she never managed to find her place under the sun. Everything she took up seemed pointless and out of line with her ambitions. Hermione shook her head, _"Who would have thought Gryffindor and ambition!"_

Remus Lupin spotted the familiar chestnut mane from afar and went to meet Hermione. Hermione and Lupin managed to maintain good friendly relations. They had many common interests based on their obsessions with books, on a fascination with the ancient Runes, as well as on an interest in world history. Remus rented a flat directly above the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes shop and often shared stories with George about the crazy Marauders’ past when the same store sold pranks from Zonko’s, and Lupin and Black could boast that they had invested a lot of their own talent in magic trinkets. 

Teddy often visited Harry, who now lived in the house on Grimmauld. On weekends, Hermione invariably took her godson to her place and drag him to museums, galleries, and parks. She fed him ice cream and showed him Disney cartoons from her muggle childhood. In the evening, Remus would come for his son, and Hermione would always invite him for a cup of mint tea and treat him to chocolate chip cookies. The werewolf was an eerie sweet tooth, and Granger encouraged his little whims. Hermione loved their friendship with Remus, it was very exciting to find someone to match her intelligence and thirst for knowledge.

"My favorite Apprentice is already here!" Remus greeted happily, stepping closer and kissing Hermione on the cheek.

“Well, well, Professor Lupin, we are standing in the middle of the Great Hall, there are a lot of children around us, and you dare greet me with kisses,” Hermione shook her finger at him and smiled broadly.

“Nia,” he greeted. The one-year-old Teddy gave Hermione her nickname five years ago, and the name somehow stuck. “The students are too busy with pranks, and the teachers with their cherry punch, believe my experience,” Remus grinned back. "Are you ready to dance until you drop?"

“I’m hardly here for dancing, Remus, I’m here for work, I’m a duty teacher, I’m not likely to have time for at least one dance,” Hermione sighed.

“What a pity, I wanted to engage you for a waltz,” Remus said and smoothed his sandy hair nervously, immediately looking fifteen years younger.

"I would very much like to agree, but alas. So, can you treat me to the famous punch instead?"

"I'd love to," Remus replied and took Hermione by the elbow.

Severus Snape watched this tooth-rotting sweet scene of frank display of friendship, hiding in a secluded corner, right at the table with the aforementioned punch. After all, the cherries and chocolate added to the drink were his inventions, and he was quite proud of that fact.

Severus felt annoyance boil in his veins. He hated dances, he hated _dancing_. He would much rather go barefoot to Antarctica than catch overly hormonal teenagers in the bushes. And he most certainly could not stand Lupin. How, great Merlin, how did this werewolf manage to win the attention of every woman with almost no effort? Lupin was adored by the entire female half of the teachers, senior students lined up to study Defense Against the Dark Arts with him, and all he ever did was to smile radiantly and answer something vague. Poppy, of course, advised Severus to be more sociable and to try and talk to people. Severus called her advice sheer nonsense and disappeared into the laboratory. Of course, it _was_ nonsense. As if he ever needed to talk to his students, headless dunderheads. If they did not blow up Hogwarts, then they would surely blow up the Potions classroom. No, his hard work required a steady hand and iron endurance.

"Ah, Miss Granger, it's just wonderful, you deigned to be late for your own duty. You did not report to Minerva, and instead of starting your direct duties, you are indulging in idleness with your future mentor, what an unheard recklessness," Snape chided pompously when Remus and Hermione lined up with the table.

“Professor Snape, I came just a few minutes ago, and I just decided to say hello to an old friend,” Hermione replied, her glass punch freezing midway to her mouth.

"Severus, really, the Ball has just begun, let the poor girl take her drink, we still have plenty of time before this senseless chaperone anyway," Remus began with patience.

"Nothing has changed in the Gryffindor camp, I see," Snape whispered menacingly.

"Professor, why start this senseless conversation about inter-faculty quarrels?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

“This conversation is absolutely useless, Miss Granger, you, oddly enough, are right, therefore, I will be waiting for you in forty minutes outside, and Circe forbid you from being late. Otherwise, I am eager to speak to the Headmistress in regard to your future apprenticeship. I suppose Professor McGonagall will be happy to know that her best graduate neglects her direct responsibilities for the sake of cherry punch and idly leisure!" With those words, Snape turned on his heels and walked out, his famous robes billowing.

"Ugh, how dare he ?!" Hermione cried indignantly, getting ready to run after Snape and demand an apology. Remus just smiled indulgently, following his colleague with a thoughtful look.

“Never mind, Nia, it's just Severus. Years pass, eras change, and Professor Snape still grumbles if someone stroked him the wrong way."

“I doubt it’s even possible to stroke him,” Hermione mused aloud. "Put your finger in his mouth, so he bites off your hand."

“You know this is a misconception. Severus' bark is louder than his bite."

"I still can't believe it," Hermione muttered, and raised her glass. "Happy Halloween Remus!"

"Yes, I'll drink to this. To your apprenticeship, Hermione."

****

Snape strode through the grounds, frightening the students with his mere sight. How dare this lousy werewolf talk to his woman? And Hermione, Hermione was too good for her own sake. _"Why start this senseless conversation about inter-faculty strife, Professor?"_

Severus sighed: no matter how they tried to remove the Sorting, the internal disposition and natural talents still impacted the students.

Snape skirted the rosebush and stealthily crept closer to the kissing sixth years.

"Astonishing! Mr. Edgecombe, minus thirty points from Ravenclaw and detention with Professor Lovegood at seven tomorrow night. Write your mentor an essay about garden fairies and the difference between them and field fairies."

“Miss Greengrass, what an impudence! Cover yourself immediately! Minus thirty points from Slytherin, my detention is at seven o'clock tomorrow, and yes, I'll write to your sister Astoria, she definitely needs to take care of your manners."

"Professor, please don't write to Tori! Professor Snape!"

"Off you go. Both of you. Right now!"

Straightening their crumpled robes and buttoning the buttons on the go, the couple hurriedly left the formidable Head of Slytherin, without ceasing to hold hands.

Snape sat down wearily on the side of the fountain and closed his eyes. No matter how hard the Wizarding world tried to pretend that life went on, and everything returned to normal, the only thing that they could manage was to play pretend. The battle wounds were healed, the School was rebuilt, the Ministry issued a couple of laws, they began to protect the Muggle-borns with all their might, they compiled a register of magical creatures and ceased to consider werewolves as outcasts. that was all they managed to do. Politicians went their own way, wizards and witches went theirs. Children remained left to their own devices, as always.

He and Minerva were directly involved in reorganizing the School's policy. The portrait of Albus tried to advise them, but was covered with a black cloth and was closed in his own office. Snape, Poppy, Arthur Weasley, Filius Flitwick, Lucius Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks, Remus-damn-him-Lupin, and, of course, Minerva, spent days and nights working on new curricula, reading books on Muggle pedagogy and modern trends in education.

Snape and his colleagues had a long debate about inter-faculty feuds and faculty assignments as such. Each held his own line, but in the end, the gift of persuasion of the Slytherins and the wisdom of Filius Flitwick did their job: they left the Sorting, but relaxed the rules, allowing senior students to re-elect their house if the need arises.

That is why now Snape found himself solving more and more problems. In fact, he was the official deputy of Minerva and the unofficial Headmaster of Hogwarts, although most of the time he preferred not to think about it. The castle itself once accepted him, ghosts obeyed him, Peeves was afraid of him, and the children of all houses, as if feeling that Snape could protect them, fled to him with any problem.

After watching Daphne Greengrass and Edgar Edgecombe disappear from his view, Snape went leisurely to check the surroundings. He did not have the slightest desire to look for couples in love or to remove points and prescribe detentions. Teachers, like the rest of the Wizarding World, desperately tried to pretend that life went on, that students were busy with studies, exams, and strict rules, but in fact, the children only needed someone who would understand them and not condemn them. Most of his Slytherins were left orphans, their parents were either sent to Azkaban, or they simply did not survive Voldemort's rage. And it would be a big mistake to say that only Slytherins were Death Eaters.

Both Daphne and Edgar lost their parents. Edgar was cared for by his grandmother, Daphne was cared for by Astoria and Draco, who had married only six months ago. Both of them felt lonely and miserable. Somehow, all the children of Hogwarts became close to each other, looking for support among the same outcast as they were.

No, Severus would not write letters to Astoria, he would allow the children the crumbs of friendship and romantic feelings that were available to them in this crazy world trying to recover from the Battle.

****

Hermione ran through the grounds of Hogwarts, scaring away the naughty children with her mere appearance. Her robes were fluttering in the wind, her tousled hair stuck out in different directions - Halloween night was not conducive to walks in the fresh air, bluish flashes of uncontrolled magic erupted from her fingertips. Hermione was angry with the whole world.

Snape dared to scold her in front of Remus and other teachers. He did not give her a word to spread with future colleagues, and at the end he simply disappeared into the crowd, leaving her to take care of the children. Hermione took the students to their common rooms. An hour later, she consoled the third-year girls who were unpaired that evening. Then she helped Pomona Sprout deal with her slightly drunken Hufflepuffs and looked for sciatica ointment for Professor Flitwick. By the end of the evening, Hermione was already collapsing from fatigue. A first-year girl from Slytherin ran to her and, with tears in her eyes, announced that her brother had disappeared, having slipped away for a walk outside.

Remus, with his characteristic nobility, of course, offered Hermione his help, but she stubbornly decided to deal with everything herself, and then present Snape with an angry rebuke, and let Professor McGonagall decide which one of the teachers neglected their direct duties.

  
_How dare he, anyway?_

However, the indignation boiling inside Hermione did nothing to help the cause. The boy just disappeared. Hermione had already visited the Astronomy Tower and had inadvertently almost fallen out of there, leaning dangerously far over the windowsill. After that, she looked for him on the Quidditch field and stomped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. With raising horror Hermione was going to visit Black Lake, especially frightening at night, when suddenly some blurry light emanating from the greenhouses caught her attention.

From the talks with Luna, Hermione knew that Neville was successfully studying under Madame Sprout's tutelage. He was already teaching Herbology for the first years, and in his free time, he was engaged in breeding rare plants and improving the existing ones. The greenhouses, given to him by the compassionate Head of Hufflepuff, now had all the climatic zones known to the magical and Muggle communities. Neville enjoyed his herbological experiments: in the greenhouses, cacti of all sorts and colors bloomed, mandrake screamed, fruit trees bloomed, some rare Singing Palm sang songs, in a word, in the vicinity of Hogwarts there was everything that the grass-loving Longbottom's imagination was enough for.

Madam Pomfrey was beside herself with happiness, having acquired full possession of all kinds of magical plants, and Professor Snape, who after the War turned his anger into mercy, often looked into greenhouses in search of this or that blade of grass, root or leaf.

So, Hermione rushed to the greenhouses, anticipating that Neville's breeding talents were definitely out of control this time, and the bright light flickering through the fogged windows only confirmed her guesses.

Rushing on the greenhouses, Granger stepped inside, and the door immediately slammed shut behind her. Inside, everything shimmered and flickered in the dim moonlight, the windows were covered with frosty patterns, her breath immediately turned into clouds of steam, chilly escaping from her parted mouth.

Hermione froze as if rooted to the spot when a huge clearing covered with snow opened up.

Her party dress was hardly suitable for the cold weather, and her robes were too thin to keep any warmth.

Since the Last Battle, Hermione had a difficult relationship with the cold. Winter reminded her of the Cruciatus, the snow reminded her of her time spent in the middle of the woods, and the cold brought her panic attacks, taking away the ability to think sanely and use magic.

As soon as the temperature crawled menacingly down, Hermione immediately started looking for her antidepressant potion, wrapped herself in warm clothes, and sat by the fireplace, trying to keep warm and to stay calm. So now, not noticing the snowdrops blossoming under the snow, Granger grabbed the doorframe, trying to get out, but the door, magically enchanted, did not budge.

Her heart sank, the wand fell out of her numb fingers and disappeared into the snow, everything went dark, cold sweat broke out, followed by a fever, it became difficult to breathe. Unreasonable fear pinned Hermione to the spot, she irrationally felt that Bellatrix would emerge from the darkness, and this time no one would be around to save her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! A cliffy! Love it? Like it? Hate it? Let me know =)
> 
> Now betaed! =)


	11. Pomegranate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed! All my love and flowers to my beta =)

Patricia Berry, a first-year Slytherin girl, chastised her twin brother, Peter, as her mother had done hundreds of times in the past. Treacherous sobs came to her throat, but she could not fill her mother’s shoes. She had almost lost her brother and Patricia knew her mother would look on them from Heaven cursing out her reckless behavior.

While she had been able to find her brother, Professor Granger was still nowhere to be found. Peter had left the Great Hall several hours prior to go in search of snowdrops which he had intended to present to Professor Granger. While Peter and Patricia had searched, she was now faced with the task of admitting to Professor Snape that the smiling woman with a shock of brown hair, who was so like her mother, was also lost.

"Miss Berry, may I ask, what are you doing near the greenhouses at this hour, and long past after the curfew?" Snape asked in a levelling tone, as he strode over to the children.

Patricia sobbed and suddenly buried herself in her professor’s robes, wiping snot on the sleeve accidentally.

"Professor Snape, sir, help, something terrible happened! First, Peter disappeared, I was looking for him for so long, and I was in the Tower, and in the dungeons, then I ran in search of Hermione..."

"It's Professor Granger to you, Miss Berry, you ought to show some respect!"

“Sir, I was so scared! She is so kind! She always visits us in the library, she talks about different books, so Peter decided to give her snowdrops, and now she is gone. Professor, help, please!"

“Hush, Patty, calm down, and tell me about everything without all the rush.” Realizing that he would not get anything from the girl if he continued using this orderly tone, Snape squatted down in front of the children and looked Patricia in the eyes. "I'll help you, just tell me what happened."

The more Patricia sobbed, the more Snape felt cold inside, and after listening to her story, he summoned Patronus and almost shouted after the flying raven: _"Lupin, come to the greenhouses, Miss Granger is in need of our aid."_

Then everything spun like a whirlpool. Remus rushed to the rescue and took the children with him. Minerva sent her Patronus off on a hunt to report back if it was able to find Hermione. Once she was found, limp and cold, Poppy told Severus to take Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing immediately. However, it seemed the headmaster had his own plans on how the crazy evening would continue.

Officially, Snape never handed over the management of the School to Minerva, therefore, in fact, Hogwarts had two Headmasters. In any case, the castle still obeyed his orders and assisted if the need arose. The cunning Head of Slytherin, of course, did not tell anyone about the lifting of the ban on Apparition on the territory of Hogwarts.

So, his orphaned Slytherins wanted to please Hermione and almost got into trouble. Recklessness, of course, but was not as though Severus had never done the same. He remembered drawing cranes as a child and secretly leaving them on Poppy's desk. He remembered how he collected bluebells at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest to secretly slip them to his second mother, Minerva. Deprived of parental love, little Severus tried his best to earn love one way or another and was very afraid that he would simply be pushed away, and his cranes would be thrown into the trash.

****

The apparition whirlwind momentarily confused him, and Snape did not immediately realize that he was in the Hogwarts greenhouses, where real winter had suddenly come. The frosty air burned his lungs, forcing him to cast a warming charm in an instant, the wind that came from nowhere threw a handful of prickly snow into his face.

Snape brushed off his robes and was about to look around as the barely audible sobs made him alert and he rushed to the sound.

At the edge of the snowy clearing, on which here and there snowdrops had already begun to break through, Hermione lay, pressing her knees to her chin, and smeared the tears down her cheeks.

Snape swore floridly through clenched teeth and rushed to her.

"You foolish girl! Why tell me, why could not you have waited for me for only five minutes more? Bloody Gryffindors with their irrepressible passion for futile exploits."

He kept swearing and scolding, reprimanding her for her negligent behavior, but she did not hear him. She saw only the red flashes of the Cruciatus, she felt fear and tasted bitterness and failure in her mouth.

Of course, Snape knew about his wife's uneasy relationship with the cold. This persistent fear and the accompanying panic attacks were one of the reasons for their many quarrels in the past when Snape tried to convince her to consult either the mediwizard or the Muggle psychologists. Hermione Snape, the curse breaker in Gringotts itself, was adamant, of course.

Snape gritted his teeth and knelt in front of her, throwing off his heavy winter robes along the way.

"Here, just a moment. Everything is fine, you are safe, nothing threatens you."

The next minute, Snape lifted Hermione into his arms and Apparated away from the greenhouses.

Of course, if Poppy Pomfrey had learned about his arbitrariness, she would have pulled off his ears. No matter that he was the Headmaster and she was a simple school nurse. Severus has always had a rocky relationship with strong women. One of them, who was desperately clinging to him now, looking for warmth, by a strange coincidence of circumstances appeared to be his wife.

At the very entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, he was overtaken by Peeves - an eternal prankster and a source of headache for Snape.

"Bitter-batty, pantsy-Princie, it's not easy being Peevsie!"

"Peeves! One word. I'll tell you just one word,” Snape hissed in response.

“So what? What? What will you do? The batty Headmaster will threaten Peeves with the Bloody Baron again?"

"No, the Headmaster will use exorcism. Don't forget that poltergeists also obey the Headmaster, as well as ghosts."

“Peeves is the embodiment of Hogwarts himself, please don’t drive him out,” Hermione muttered somewhere into Snape's collar in a low voice.

“I won’t drive him out, dear heart, it would be too easy, but I can quite expel him from the Dungeons,” Snape murmured in a half-whisper.

_"Batty and Swotty sitting in a tree,_

_K- I- S- S- I- N- G._

_First comes love,_

_Then comes marriage;_

_Then comes Poppy with a baby carriage."_

"Peeves, get lost this instant! _Mucus ad Nauseam!_ "

"Uh-oh, the Headmaster has put a cold spell on Peeves! The Headmaster is cruel!"

"So, who is Snivellus now?" Snape muttered after the departing poltergeist.

It seemed unbelievable, but in fact, in Snape's childhood, he and Peeves were almost friends! In any case, Snape was the only one who was not afraid to answer the poltergeist with a prank for a prank and a cruel joke for a cruel joke.

Friendship with a poltergeist... Well, until Narcissa found Severus and practically adopted him, he had no friends at all.

There was, of course, Regulus, a lonely boy wandering the corridors of Hogwarts and dreaming of getting his brother back. There was the brilliant Prefect Lucius Malfoy, too smart and just as unattainable for Severus to try and make friends with him. For some time, there was Lily, but friendship with her turned out to be fleeting, like a short-lived second summer. She melted like a spider's web in the wind, leaving Snape only bitterness and vague melancholy. And Severus was alone.

It was then, in one of the gray and immensely dreary evenings, that a prankster poltergeist found him. He threw water bombs, tried to take the bag of scrolls from Severus, he substituted the steps, but the disappointed and angry teenager did not react to his pranks in any way, stubbornly walking forward. And when Peeves scattered the vials of herbs that Severus had been collecting in the Forbidden Forest for two days, the latter could not stand it and threatened Peeves with exorcism.

At first, the poltergeist was taken aback: in the entire history of Hogwarts, no one had thought of such impudence. Then, gradually, he began to look after the unsociable boy, he taught Snape all the secret passages, he warned him about which of the teachers patrolled the corridors and he simply told Severus various stories from the past.

It was believed that the poltergeist was the embodiment of the very consciousness of Hogwarts, ancient as time, and as mischievous as spoiled children. Peeves understood the true essence of things and never hurt those who could not stand up for themselves.

Snape watched him wistfully, remembering how many times Hermione had had to complain to him in the past when Peeves had happened to catch her off guard and ruin her new suit, spill ink, or mix her reactive potions together.

It seemed to Severus, that the harmful poltergeist seemed to have guessed that his longtime friend was consumed by jealousy and indecision and in such a strange way Peeves expressed his support for Snape.

****

Hermione came to consciousness, then plunged into darkness again. Everything around her was filled with the familiar smells of the Potions lab, the subtle aromas of juniper and cedar that she always associated with Snape, and apple pie, which the elves must have baked in the kitchen.

The last thing she remembered was the intolerable cold and the horror that bound her, it seemed that she even lost her wand through carelessness, and what would happen now? Who would come to her aid?

The deep baritone, whispering something to her in an undertone, was surprisingly soothing, and Hermione thought she was floating.

She recalled the winter of her fourth year when the entire School was enthusiastically preparing for the Yule Ball, and Hermione was hiding from everyone in the farthest corridors, not wanting to see anyone. Ron threw an ugly scene of jealousy at her, accusing her of cheating on him with Krum, and disappeared. Harry was too absorbed in his girlfriend's attention that evening to pay attention to where Hermione had gone. And Hermione was too sad to share her grief with her friends. That was why she did not think of anything better than to hide in the most secluded corner and shed tears into the darkness.

It was where, a few hours later, Snape found her, finding himself no better thing to do than patrolling the corridors.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing here, Miss Granger?" he asked insinuatingly, habitually emerging from the darkness.

"Mourning my first ball," Hermione grunted angrily. On this dreary evening, the best student at Hogwarts did not care at all that Snape could take off a lot of points for insolence and mock her at detentions until the end of the next year.

Snape gave her a thoughtful look, thought for a couple of seconds, then held out his hand to Hermione and ordered:

"Come with me. Of course, I could deduct points from you for walking around unknown places unattended. I could also start giving you an inspiring lecture that first ball is one of the most important events in every girl's life and should never be missed, but I will leave this dubious honor to Professor McGonagall. You, as I see, have already guessed by yourself that the first love is fleeting and cruel, therefore, come with me. You need not mourn the injustice of life in the dark and cold corridors."

Hermione was so taken aback that she grabbed his outstretched hand and obediently followed.

At some point in the traditional patrolling of the corridors, Snape took off his heavy winter robe and handed it to her, arguing that it was December, and it was not worth wandering around the castle in a dress that was too thin. They didn't talk about anything else, but the silence and his confident presence were strangely soothing, and Hermione no longer seemed so grief-stricken. And the winter, which she hated, turned out to be quite bearable.

So now, Hermione had a vague feeling that she and her professor were wandering through the corridors of the School, looking for troublemakers in secluded corners, and she was wearing his winter robes, smelling of cedar and juniper, and instead of the fierce cold, she felt warmth.

She was on the verge of reality and sleep, with the edge of her consciousness distinguishing the crackling of logs in the fireplace, the rustling of book pages, the gurgling of herbs boiling in the pot over the hearth, and the barely audible sounds of human steps. Snape wandered through his private chambers, looking for a blanket to wrap up Hermione, then sorting various medicinal plants for a warming drink. She wanted to sit on the couch, to ask him about something, to admire the interior of his rooms (she was once in his quarters when she helped rebuild Hogwarts, but she had never felt at home here before), but the weakness caused by the panic attack did not let her say any a sound.

Snape found a blanket and, as if nothing had happened, transfigured her evening dress into flannel pajamas, blue with white clouds as if he had done this a hundred times. Hermione had no answer to his familiarity, and Snape, too worried about the health of his future wife, ignored her displeasure.

He knew perfectly well that in the morning Hermione would not remember his schemes to save her, so he was not too worried that she might suspect something.

Two or three more hours would pass, the ball would end in the Great Hall, and Minerva and Madam Pomfrey would come running here to insist on Hermione's immediate hospitalization so now Snape had every minute counting.

He gave Hermione some herbal pomegranate juice, marveling at the irony of the situation. According to the beliefs of the ancient Greeks, Persephone, the spouse of the gloomy Hades, ate seven pomegranate seeds and got the opportunity to resurrect, to return spring to the world. The pomegranate was also considered a kind of marriage contract, the fruit of the tree of knowledge, a symbol of erotic love. A sign of immortality, renewal, abundance, hope for rebirth.

Of course, Snape was far from being Hades, but he really wanted spring to come into his and Hermione's life. She slept on his couch. He read for a long time by the fireplace, sipping his herbal tea. She dozed on the couch, occasionally listening to the story about the pomegranate tree that Snape read aloud, and it seemed to her that someone was stroking her hair.

Hermione was warm. Hermione felt at home.


	12. St. John's Wort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now betaed =) Thanks to my amazing and wonderful beta!

Hermione squinted at Luna as she roamed the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Miss Lovegood, the future Mrs. Longbottom, the teacher of Charms and Spells, and the idol of all the kids of the school, rearranged the potion bottles from place to place, sniffed the ointments and stacked piles of candy wrappers.

Hermione was sitting with her back on the pillows and watched with interest the actions of her friend. Luna was the first one who rushed to The Hospital Wing after she had found out what trouble had happened to Hermione, and spent the night sitting by her bed until the morning, as it often happened in the past during the work on the restoration of Hogwarts.

Neither Hermione nor Luna believed that time healed, that all the war heroes would be happy and carefree. A common misfortune had brought together irreconcilable enemies, once separated by silly inter-faculty strife and racial prejudice. The victory and the loss equalized the rivals and strengthened the already strong friendship.

Draco Malfoy, unable to cope with his guilt that lay on his heart like a heavy burden, came to Hogwarts to repent and help in the restoration. A whirlwind named Lavender Brown immediately hit him. One might wonder what could connect two completely different people but they soon became friends.

Lavender was a stupid, noisy, glorious fashionista and gossip, always dressed in colorful clothes. Draco grew more and more silent those days and he usually left to wander the corridors of the School, hiding in the depths of his heart his resentment towards his parents and disappointment with life in general.

It was there, among the abandoned statues and old, forgotten portraits, that Lavender usually found him most often. She stood in front of him, her hands on her hips, and spoke, deliberately drawling words, as was often done by aristocrats.

“Stop mourning your life, Draco, we all ended up in the same boat, so let's paddle out."

"What do you want from me, Brown? You were dumped by the Weasley, so you couldn't find a better job than repainting the Great Hall?"

“Trust me, Draco, repainting the Hall is much better than throwing yourself a pity-party party as you do."

Draco raised an eyebrow deliberately in an imitation of his godfather and stared back.

"What would you have me do instead?"

"You know, there is no better remedy for depression than physical labor. Or do you, purebreds, not know such a concept?"

"Ha, you know nothing of pureblood culture! I studied with the best fencing masters, I studied Latin, Greek, physics, astronomy ..."

"I perfectly understand that, but what else can you do, Draco, except to pore over books, huh? What do you say, my good boy from Slytherin?"

Draco cast a haughty glance at his interlocutor and, snatching a bucket of paint from her fingers, ran down the corridors.

"Look and learn, Lavender, what real aristocrats can do!"

And the echo picked up Malfoy's lengthy lecture, which he shouted at Lavender, running towards the Main Hall of Hogwarts.

"Let it be known to you that from the middle of the 18th-century children of nobles were also taught art and literature. This was due to necessity rather than broadening one's horizons. Small landowners quite often had to engage in construction and repair work in their homestead, and they could not always afford an architect. Therefore, a young nobleman had to be able to draw a construction plan, draw up an estimate of costs, and monitor the progress of construction work. And I can do all this! My father taught me this personally!"

Lavender had to do just that: distract Malfoy from his sad thoughts and force him to switch to other tasks. Let him be proud of his origin and education.

Lavender was wrongly underestimated. Born into a Muggle family with a bunch of brothers and sisters who lack magic gifts, Lavender learned early on how to understand the difference between Muggles and wizards, between rich and poor, between a noisy and friendly family and loneliness. She hid her dissimilarity behind gossip and fashionable clothes, but the restoration of the School changed everything.

Lavender, having gathered around her the junior courses of all four faculties, painted the sky above the Main Hall, inventing outlandish combinations of constellations. Then Draco came and began to help, without ceasing to give her lengthy lectures on astronomical topics. So, imperceptibly for themselves, they became friends. It seemed that Lavender needed a mentor, and a little self-confident and lonely Malfoy needed a noisy and bright girlfriend who would accept him without judgment or prejudice.

Luna watched her new friends with an enigmatic smile and usually went to the greenhouses to help Neville take care of the plants. His love for flowers and herbs and Luna's passion for all the mysterious and invisible creatures tied them together. Neville did not fully understand where Luna got the seeds of mysterious plants from, but Snape, who once looked into the greenhouses with some errand from McGonagall, examined the Abyssinian fig tree, black hazel, Hyena tree, and the shoots of the Whomping Willow, lost the power of speech and advised Luna to start making magic wands. Luna only blushed in response and said that without Neville she would never have been able to breed the Whomping Willow, much less Hyena Tree. And Professor Flitwick, once having gone for an ointment for radiculitis, which Luna made especially for him, admired her success in using Charms in Herbology, and without hesitation offered her apprenticeship and his every assistance.

Luna and Neville spent more and more time with each other: soul mates who, by an absurd coincidence, were brought to the wrong Houses. Neville would have been much more comfortable in Hufflepuff, and Luna, it seemed, too. Peace-loving "badgers" stood up for their own people and accepted everyone with all their shortcomings and possible oddities. If one were to decide to reform Hogwarts politics one day, one of the Hufflepuffs would undoubtedly have become that leader.

“My mother was an outstanding witch,” Luna used to say when she and Neville were resting after the righteous labor of rebuilding the greenhouses. "She loved experiments, loved to invent new spells, one of them, however, cost her life, but her works went down in the history of magic. I would like to be like her one day."

“You just take care of yourself, Luna, and if you accidentally forget, then I will take care of you,” Neville answered her, completely emboldened, and fell silent, looking into the distance.

“I know you would like your parents to be proud of you. And I'm sure they are proud, there are much fewer Crumple-Horned Snorkacks around them these days, perhaps this memory recovery potion that Hermione is working on will help them?"

"And if not, then we will continue to fight, right?"

"Definitely!" Luna smiled, and Neville really wanted to believe her.

Life seemed to be getting better. United by common losses, fellow students from different faculties spent more and more time together, forgetting senseless rivalry and feuds. Gryffindors were friends with Hufflepuffs, Slytherins invented enchantments with Ravenclaws, and after a hard day, everyone piled into the nearest bar and remembered those who did not survive the Great Battle.

Hermione was all alone. She worked on the restoration of the Main Hall, she wandered around the School grounds alone and spent her evenings with books retrieved from the Restricted Section. Deep down, she envied the easy-going Luna, who managed to recover from her experience faster than the others. Hermione herself seriously took up the preparation of potions for depression and even filed patents several times with the Ministry of Magic.

  
Without the help of medication, she could not cope with depressive moods and panic attacks, and on the night of the Halloween Ball, just such a disaster happened: Hermione forgot to take her potion, spent too much time in the cold, which provoked an attack of panic, exacerbating the already existing symptoms...

“You scared everyone a lot, Maya,” Luna chided, arranging get-well gifts by size.

“Sorry, the last thing I wanted was to ruin your fun,” Hermione looked down apologetically. She still had little understanding of what happened to her after Professor Snape took her out of the greenhouses. "I still don't know what happened to me, and how I ended up in the Hospital Wing."

“Madam Pomfrey said Professor Snape brought you here at dawn,” Luna said thoughtfully, pacing the room, and absent-mindedly painting the walls in the colors of all four houses.

"Oh Merlin, that is, I was in the greenhouses all night?"

“I don’t think you have any signs of frostbite, Madam Pomfrey only said that you were under severe stress and probably had a panic attack, but Remus and Professor Snape intervened just in time."

“I'm so embarrassed,” Hermione muttered, fiddling with the corner of the pillow. "I had to act according to the protocol, I had to wait for the professor, and not rush headlong to patrol the School territory. I was too angry at Professor Snape's remarks, although he was generally right: I was asked to help, and I began to have fun instead."

Luna looked up from the sunbeams and sat down on the bed and took Hermione's hands.

"You had every right to have fun among friends, do you still remember what friends are for? We are worried about you, Maya, no matter what Professor Snape says, it was he who found and saved you, after all."

Hermione smiled enigmatically.

"Maybe I dreamed it, but it seemed to me that he called me "dear" at some point yesterday evening. It was a strange dream, but so comfortable."

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkacks left the Professor after the Battle, who knows what exactly happened, but he changed, believe me."

And Hermione, for some reason, really wanted to believe the strange words of Luna.

****

Snape wandered through the greenhouses in search of Hermione's lost wand, which responded to his call immediately. He was about to leave when a bottle snapped under his boot and that attracted his attention. Brushing away the shards, Snape brought the rest of the potion closer and sniffed: St. John's wort, valerian, ginkgo, ginseng.

Valerian root was known to be widely used to overcome mild anxiety and to improve sleep. It should not be mixed with other sedatives, as their effects were cumulative and could lead to unpredictable results. John's wort should not be taken by people taking antidepressants. These drugs affected serotonin levels, and the summation of their action with the medicinal herb led to unpredictable consequences. Ginseng was a popular herbal remedy for toning. Combining ginseng with antidepressants sometimes led to manic psychosis, and combined with caffeine it could cause irritability.

"In what illegal pharmacy did you buy this potion, dear?" Snape muttered and left the greenhouse.

Well, this hellish mixture, however, explained to him the panic attacks and the general loss of strength in Hermione. He was determined to deal with whoever had prescribed such medicine for her. 


	13. Hyacinth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta ThisLifeIsAWasteland

The setting sun peered curiously into the gloomy private chambers of the Head of Slytherin. The approaching twilight brought the November dampness, the Black Lake was covered with fog, creeping from the moorland, adding more darkness to the autumn gloom.

The room was warm, a fireplace was burning, candles made the chambers cozier, tea was cooling on the table. Snape felt cold. Narcissa, sitting opposite him, looked thoughtfully at her friend, but so far did not comment on his strange story, which he had brought down on her forty minutes ago.

“I don’t know Narssie, I practically lost her and again, through my own fault at that,” Snape said after some silence.

"I still cannot believe that you decided to take such a step."

"You consider me a hero, but is it truly so?" Snape shook his head.

“You’re trying to correct your mistakes, Sev, and it’s worth something,” Narcissa objected, pouring more tea into their cups.

"I dare to disagree with you. I look at Lupin - one of my worst enemies - and realize how hopeless my entire situation is. He lives his life further, he raises his son, he does his work, while I only make everything worse. Who knows, Narssie, maybe she died just because I loved her? Or thought I loved."

“Severus, stop talking nonsense."

“No, no, Narcissa. Look, I defied all the rules for my own ambition, as always. I left you behind, you and Lucius. I left Poppy to the mercy of fate, I intervened in the fate of the Weasley, and all for the sake of living another meaningless year, hoping that everything will be resolved by the end and I'll manage to save my own wife."

"Severus..."

"Don't, Narssie. I almost lost her. I cannot lose her one more time. I don't know, maybe I'm only making everything worse? Maybe I should have let her live as she pleases?"

"And move on yourself? Could you, like Lupin, forget everything and live on, not giving a damn about your losses? Could you prepare a curriculum for your dunderheaded students, write and rewrite the same theses that no one needs, drink beer with Remus on Fridays, all while periodically visit Lucius and me? You had loved that one woman that had never been yours for almost two decades until fate unexpectedly brought you and Hermione together. Tell me, Severus, could you let go of your own wife?"

Severus was silent for a long time. Twilight deepened the room, thoughts heavily settled on his heart.

"I'm scared, Narcissa."

"That's because you are human, sweet darling, although you constantly forget about it. Let yourself be such, Severus, and you will see how things change. Ask yourself, did she know the real you? Did you know her? Get to know yourself. Let yourself get to know the woman you love."

Severus lowered his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I'm so confused about everything, Narcissa. She is here again, alive and smiling, and I can't even talk to her, so as not to inadvertently give myself away. My pointless outburst of jealousy cost her a panic attack, and it is all because I lost control when I saw her flirting with Remus. On the other hand, she is the godmother of his child, what's the big deal?"

“You had every right to be jealous, Severus, you had every right to defend what's yours. You never had anything of your own. Remember how you spent your whole life trying to find your place in the sun."

"Remind me as well how many mistakes I made in the process."

"Severus, you are a living person, and people tend to make mistakes."

“But not as big as mine were!" Snape hoisted himself up, jumping to his feet. Narcissa only raised an eyebrow in condescension.

"Sit down and listen to me. You are doing everything right. There was nothing worthwhile in your life other than a constant feeling of remorse. But you didn’t give up, you kept going forward. You have dedicated your life to serving other people's senseless ideas, you allowed them all to meddle with your life, you..."

"Narssie, that's enough. I might as well cry now over your pathetic words. You needlessly consider me a hero, sometimes it seems to me that I'm just an idiot."

“Severus, I’ve known you since the age of thirteen, and much of what happened to you, I am also to blame. It was I who once introduced you to Lucius, and we pulled you into the circle of the Death Eaters, I took the Unbreakable Vow from you. Because of us you almost died."

"Are we having an evening of remorse? Or are you, after all, going to admit that I am an idiot, and leave for the night?"

“Be quiet, Severus, you know perfectly well what I mean. I repeat: you had _nothing_ but the desire to find your place in life, so you cannot let Hermione go. You could not completely abandon the Headmaster's powers. For the first time in your life, you had something of your own, even if it was fleeting and you got it as a result of a tragedy."

Severus stared at Narcissa with wide eyes. She was one of the few who still understood the intricacies of Snape's life drama much more than he did.

“Don't look at me like that, deep down you know that I'm right."

“I… I don't know, Narcissa. I don't even know why I told you everything."

“Because I’m your friend, whether you like it or not, because we’ve been through too much to stay away, and simply because you’re human too, and I won’t tire of reminding you of this until you understand.”

"What am I supposed to do now?"

“For starters, go and lecture Longbottom, I know you want to. Then go to the staff room and throw a huge fit there over Hermione's future position. Tell them that she is not qualified for an apprenticeship, she is irresponsible, and so on. You still have to stay in the role, however, otherwise, she will marry Lupin."

"Merlin forbid!"

"Now, I see how you gradually become yourself, my friend."

“You are a terrible woman, Narcissa Malfoy."

“Of course, and that's why I'm your best friend."

****

Severus followed Narcissa's advice, tracked down Neville in the greenhouses, and attacked him with an accusatory speech.

“Mr. Longbottom, your passion for herbological experiments nearly cost Miss Granger her health! You are neglecting basic safety rules. What if children wandered into the greenhouses?"

Snape kept talking and talking, while Neville was doing magic over snowdrops, hardly paying attention to the accusations of his former teacher.

“Mr. Longbottom, if you please, listen when I am speaking to you."

“Professor Snape, with all due respect, but you have no right to accuse me of neglecting safety precautions. The greenhouses are enchanted against the intrusion. I’m still wondering how you and Hermione even got inside."

Snape knew perfectly well how he got into the greenhouses. The Castle let him in. Obeying the direct order of the Headmaster, but there was Hermione... Was it Peeves who let her in? It seemed that fate itself had arranged this meeting in order to show Severus his mistake and force him to repent. Thinking so, Snape left the greenhouses, leaving Neville to stare after him in surprise. _Wow, the formidable professor did not even assign him detention or some other punishment. Times have really changed_.

And in the staff room, as Narcissa had foreseen, Minerva looked around everyone present with a stern look and asked for a moment of their attention.

“I bring to your attention that our best graduate, Miss Hermione Granger, begins her apprenticeship under the leadership of Remus on Monday, please provide her with all possible assistance if such a need arises. Also, Severus, a separate request for you: Hermione will study forbidden potions, so I gave her three nights a week so that she can practice in your laboratory."

"Absolutely not! My lab is not for kids to play Potions Master."

"Severus, Hermione is the brightest witch in her class!"

“She was not best in my subject and, as far as I remember, also in Defense. The laboratory and the ingredients are my private property, Headmistress, and it's up to me to decide whom to admit to them."

"In that case, Hermione will spend three nights a week under your supervision" Minerva crossed her arms over her chest, hinting that the conversation was over.

Snape stood up defiantly from his seat and walked out of the staff room with a dramatic billow of his robes.

He just needed to find out Hermione's general knowledge of Potions to understand who had come up with that terrible potion for depression.

Snape patrolled the School corridors as usual on Sunday evening, finding no more interesting activity. He wanted to catch Peeves and have a heart-to-heart with him, but he was unexpectedly found by Crookshanks.

Severus had lost the habit of the company of the cat, so he quarreled with him in an undertone, trying to send him his way, as Hermione blocked their way.

“Good evening, Professor Snape. Is Crooks bothering you?"

“Good evening, Miss Granger. On the contrary, cats are sometimes much nicer than many people."

"I wanted to apologize for the inconvenience. Professor McGonagall said that I will study potions under your guidance,” Hermione stammered, shifting from foot to foot.

“Your house has always been a nuisance, Miss Granger, I'm used to it."

"I had a feeling that we agreed not to raise the topic of inter-faculty strife anymore."

"Obviously, and just after our conversation you went to the greenhouses and rushed into trouble in such a Gryffindor fashion."

“Thank you for saving my life. I dare not waste your time any longer,” Hermione rapped out. "Come on, Crooks, we are leaving."

But the ginger traitor lifted his tail high and followed Snape.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Your wand."

The moment their fingers touched on the shaft, a sheaf of greenish sparks burst from the wand and showered the pair.

“What is your wand core, Miss Granger?"

"Dragon Heartstring. My old wand was destroyed by Bellatrix."

“The bitch got off too easy,” Snape muttered under his breath, but Hermione heard him and for a long time looked after his tall, receding figure and her ginger cat, who had chosen Snape as his companion for the evening.

  
“The bitch got off too easy,” Snape muttered under his breath, but Hermione heard him and for a long time looked after his tall, receding figure and her ginger cat, who had chosen Snape as his companion for the evening.


	14. Azalea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta ThisLifeIsAWasteland

Hermione criticized her reflection in the mirror. Her first week as Remus' apprentice was drawing to a close and she wasn’t pleased with her findings. Hogwarts received her warmly, as was expected from her Alma Mater, which was always happy to welcome students, be it current or former. However, Hermione didn’t feel happy to be back in School.

Hermione shook her head and sighed. The magic mirror creaked out something mocking, but she never expected that the magic object would suddenly begin to tell her compliments. She felt sad and that sadness didn't have to do anything with her Monday-morning appearance.

Hermione was terribly lonely. It seemed to her that she had stumbled into a party. Guests were having fun, music played loudly, and laughter was even louder. In the midst of the fun, Hermione realized from the expression on other’s faces, she had not been invited. She dared to show up and break someone else's delight with her gloomy air.

Her voice of reason, of course, objected: _all this was just her paranoia playing evil jokes with her, and she should not revel in her loneliness, and her life went on_. Hermione did not listen to the objections of her own voice of reason _: she was childishly_ _feeling_ _sorry for herself._ Quite recently, the School was full of her friends, her professors were always ready to help, and she wanted to believe that her future would be illuminated by the light of the sun and new achievements. Reality proved to her in just five days that her dreams were worthless.

"Hermione dear, welcome!" Remus greeted her happily

The two chatted for a few moments before he disappeared into the crowd, citing an excuse to which she barely paid any attention. It had been something along the lines of Teddy having caught a magical variety of chickenpox, and he urgently needed his father's presence. There was nothing to blame the old friend for. Remus lived for the sake of his son, of course, he wanted to see his every step. However, Hermione was once against left alone. She could feel the judgment emanating from the Slytherin graduates who were not at all happy with the "know-it-all" of the notorious Golden Trio, who decided to lecture them on the Unforgivable Spells.

In the midst of a completely disastrous lecture, Snape walked into the audience and looked sternly at the quiet students.

“Minus fifty points from Slytherin for disobedience. Mr. McAlister, Miss White, detention is at seven o'clock. The lesson is over."

There were displeased voices, but no one dared to seriously express to Professor Snape their dissatisfaction with him as the replacement teacher.

Severus watched the hastily slipped out students and crossed his arms over his chest as he turned to Hermione. She stood at attention in front of him, like a freshman, and distractedly fiddled with hastily compiled lecture notes.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” she muttered in confusion. Snape frowned and motioned for her to sit down.

“I can hardly see any reason for gratitude in this incident, Miss Granger. The Unforgivable Spells is, you know, a very interesting lecture topic, especially if you read this lecture to the seventh year of Slytherin. You see, there are widespread theories that the Unforgivables were, in fact, invented by Healers for good purposes. Cruciatus was used as a spell to resuscitate the heart, Avada was intended for euthanasia, and Imperius was widely used in the field of psychology. I will not make a great discovery if I say that the Healers of the Wizarding world did not succeed in the science of knowing the mind, but, nevertheless, some attempts were made,” Professor Snape paused and barely waited for her reaction. “During the First Wizarding War, St. Mungo's ward was greatly enriched by patients suffering from various forms of mental disorders, the most common of which were post-traumatic stress disorder and chronic depression. Having suffered one defeat after another, the Healers decided to use the notorious Imperius on, especially difficult patients. And can we blame them, Miss Granger? This particular spell bestowed a sense of lightness and a strange sense of peace when you don't have to think about the fact that your whole family died from the Dark Curses, that your loved ones are rotting in Azkaban, and your very life collapsed in an instant,” he continued.

"Professor, I-"

“I would be grateful if you didn’t interrupt me. So, you are not lucky today to face a group of precisely those students whose families and they themselves have directly or indirectly suffered from the consequences of the use of the Unforgivables. Many of these children and I will ignore the fact that they are almost adults, are the orphaned descendants of the Eaters, people from Voldemort's inner circle. Their parents were either killed, or taken to Azkaban, or tortured during the especially bloodthirsty entertainment of the Dark Lord. You see, Miss Granger, not all Slytherins are cold-blooded killers who are only interested in the purity of blood. And before you start interrupting, defending unnecessary morality, I will allow myself to note that I am not lecturing you on ethical topics, I want you to know that some things come with experience. If you want to be a good teacher someday, pay attention to the details."

Hermione looked at Snape with wide eyes and got silent. She did not have any arguments for his impromptu lecture. He said goodbye to her with a nod of his head and went out. In the evening, she had her first Forbidden Potions class, and she already had a premonition that her absolute inability to calculate moves would lead her to another failure.

The Potions laboratory smelled of herbs, slowly boiling cauldrons were bubbling quietly in the far corner. Hermione's thoughts, distracted by the measured tapping of her knife on a cutting board, were turning heavily inside her head. Hermione kept trying to concentrate but could not. Today she had brewed Life-giving blood, the very one potion with which she once saved the life of Professor Snape.

Snape didn’t give her boring lectures on the importance of this forbidden potion, he simply issued instructions and disappeared into the next office. Hermione was left to chop the ingredients and contemplate.

“You see, Miss Granger, I already foresee a lot of questions with which you are going to bombard me, and since the Headmistress has entrusted you with my responsibility, I will have to answer you. However, my Slytherins are waiting for me outside the door, and it is my responsibility to supervise their detention. I'll leave you information for thought. Life-giving blood could be considered one of the most powerful healing potions that can pull a person literally from the other world, if not for one "but": the debt of life, which will immediately follow such powerful magic."

"But, Professor, this is human life! No matter how great the price is ..."

"Gryffindors with their high morale, planted in your heads by our late director… And before you start to reproach me again for my talk of house rivalry, I will say that I am not trying to humiliate Gryffindor and praise Slytherin. Try to understand my point. Dylis Derwent, an outstanding healer, was a Slytherin, our mutual friend Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor. Morality is not related to the faculty. However, it so happened that most of the Slytherins, one way or another, were outcasts, albeit through their own fault, albeit through someone else's, but the fact remains. And as outcasts, we understand some things much deeper than the brave "lions". Yes, it will not be superfluous to admit that without the courage of Gryffindor we would have lost the war, but you will never understand the weight of the Life Debt without the help of the Slytherins. Understand that not everyone wants to be saved. Just as not all saviors want to take responsibility for someone else's life."

“I don’t understand, sir."

"Which was to be proved," Snape nodded, curling his lips in a grin. “I’m not trying to blame you in any way, but I want you to know one thing: The debt of life has such a high price that not everyone can pay it."

Snape walked through the laboratory and stood by the window, thinking aloud.

“The debt of my life to James Potter cost me seventeen years of babysitting Harry. And, you know, at times I was ready to give up everything and finally start living my own life, deprived of the service of two masters who were trying to outplay each other at Russian roulette. I would take up potions, open an apothecary, make connections with colleagues, and not try to predict the next step of your reckless trinity. Or Dumbledore's schemes. Or Voldemort's intrigues. The debt of my life did not allow me to do this. Not everyone wants to be saved, Miss Granger, think about my words."

Snape left, carefully closing the door behind him. Hermione bent over the ingredients, feeling her hands shake, and the thoughts in her head interrupting each other.

Did her professor know that, thanks to her heightened sense of justice, he had acquired another Debt of Life? Did he want to be saved?

In this strange week of her apprenticeship, Hermione was annoyed to realize that all her good intentions, one way or another, would be misinterpreted by Snape.

****

Snape poured tea into cups, flavored with a dose of a sedative tincture, and ordered his seventh years to sit down.

"Before you start to resent me, I will note that you rightly lost your points. Miss Granger is your future professor, and I will not tolerate your disrespect for her."

"But, sir, the Unforgivables!" cried Miss White, nearly spilling her tea.

"Sit down, Matilda, I am aware of the topic of your unsuccessful lecture. You are already an adult, you are one step away from living a life on your own, and in your future, no one will sweeten your pills. There was nothing wrong with Miss Granger's words. And yes, I remember vividly how you begged me to use Imperius on you when your parents were arrested and your house-elves were tortured to death. What did I tell you then?"

“That the illusion of calm will not solve our problems,” McAlister said in a low voice.

"And what did I do then?"

“You read stories to us every night, here in your office, and you gave us tea."

"And I will always protect you. All of us will. Me. the Headmistress, and the rest of the professors, but no one will sweeten your pills. Everyone is responsible for their misdeeds, this is the law of life."

"This is unfair."

“You finally get the meaning of life, Miss White. More tea?"

Hermione, who had heard the entire conversation of Snape with the students, dropped the knife and covered her face with her palms: she did everything wrong, she was lonely, and there were no friends nearby who could help and support her. And deep in her heart, she knew that she deserved it.


	15. Lilies

Severus dimmed the candles, closed the curtains, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and settled into an easy armchair by the fireplace. By the evening, the weather had completely deteriorated, snow began to fall, it became sharply colder. He loved bad weather, loved to feel the unity with the elements, loved the gloomy silence of the ancient castle, enclosed in the arms of cold. For a while, Severus was quite happy in his own solitude.

  
The bad weather brought him an annoying migraine, exacerbating his already bad mood. Snape suppressed the urge to jump to his feet and rush out of the dungeons to find Hermione and tell her everything he knew about their shared future-in-the-past. He can't. He had already sufficiently intervened in the course of the history of their mutual past. Soon. At the end of November, the Ministry would pass this damn Marriage Act that would change their lives forever.

  
However, the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to stop playing games by the rules. Hermione's friendship with the werewolf did not improve Severus's mood.

  
He and Remus shared a strange relationship. They were both like soldiers of enemy regiments who smoked one cigarette for two when the commanders were absent and bandaged each other's wounds out of solidarity.

  
Remus embodied everything Severus had always lacked. Lupin had the support of friends, the respect of colleagues, the love of his students. His charisma and soft, slightly muffled timbre allowed Remus to capture the attention of the audience where Snape would not fail to resort to threats and intimidation. Snape was respected out of fear; Remus was respected because of his mild attitude.

  
In fact, both of them grew up in similar conditions: Severus was an outcast because he was not lucky enough to be born into his own family, Remus became an outcast due to a tragic coincidence. The werewolf got to Gryffindor and, thanks to his intellect and silent observation, made loyal friends. Severus ended up on Slytherin and had a slew of arrogant enemies who used his mind for their own purposes.

  
The werewolf had friends who were ready for any recklessness for him. Severus... Severus only had his drawings, a bad temper, and a desire to be better.

  
Snape wondered many times why he continued to help Remus, why he brewed the Wolfsbane, why sometimes he invited the werewolf to his chambers for a glass of whiskey. Lupin was his last connection to adolescence, a vivid memory of their shared bloody past, the last reminder of Lily. In fact, Remus was never Snape's enemy, he did not attack him openly, preferring to remain on the sidelines. He remained on the sidelines all his own life, continuing to hide in the shadow of his brighter friends. Black's star, for example, overshadowed everything around him, Sirius bathed in glory, making friends and enemies alternately. He burned too brightly and burned out in an instant.

  
Lily... Severus didn't have the feelings for her that the sentimental public wanted to believe he had. Lily was once a naive red-haired girl who seemed to attract glances, sunlight, and trouble. Problems had always been Lily's eternal companions. In her childhood, when she was still quite a toddler, and the neighbors' boys happened to take away sweets from her, as a rule, not even ten minutes after those very boys stumbled and bruised their knees. Lily then stopped crying, took her older sister by the hand, as befits a good girl with bows, and walked home decorously. Time passed, Lily grew up, went to school, but the problems did not go away. The sunny girl quickly made a bunch of friends, as if Queen Mab led her retinue, and continued to work her magic, beckoning naive moths to the hot flame of her restless heart and explosive nature.

  
Flowers bloomed in her hands, birds obeyed her, she herself was a bird - an irresistible force that cannot be locked in a cage, but he - a lanky boy in tattered pants - called Lily a spark and preferred to peep from afar, like a forest animal that will never approach to the fire.

  
Lily made no attempts to become a part of the Wizarding world, she was too used to wearing the image of Queen Mab, so she needed an entourage who could love and praise her. At one point, a faithful footman named Severus was not enough, and Lily turned her attention to the arrogant James Potter and his noisy but stupid friend Sirius Black. And she continued to judge people by her own prejudices, not wanting to see the truth.

  
Queen Mab needed a retinue. Retinue and troubles.

  
Severus recalled with bitterness how he hesitated on her doorstep, wanting to warn her of the Prophecy, trying to save and atone for his own guilt. Lily laughed in his face.

  
“Severus, I can keep my son and my family safe!"

  
"Lily, I'm sure, you can, but listen, Voldemort will stop at nothing! How can you not understand this?"

  
Lily understood. She understood too well, and therefore exactly one month later she stood on the threshold of Severus's house, open to all the winds, and pounded on his door.

  
“Severus, you ought to help me! Listen, you simply have to, I can't do it alone, I found one ritual in old books..."

  
Lily chattered and chattered as Snape walked her into a semblance of a living room, sat on the sofa, and sipped her tea. And when she finished her confused story, he could hardly resist yelling.

  
"You're insane! Do you even understand what blood magic is?"

  
“Severus, I don't care. There is a ritual. There is a chance to save my son. It is only necessary to build a blood defense over Harry on the night of Samhain, and then all the ancestors of my family will stand up for him, and no evil can get to him. I will keep the mother's magic, and the magic will keep my child."

  
“Lily, blood magic will come at a price, most likely the price will be too high. You are Muggle-born, there is no family behind you that would be able to help you, therefore magic will draw forces from Potter, from Black, and from everyone with whom you are somehow connected by blood. The night of Samhain is too dark to be ignored. You are practically making a deal with death."

  
"Which's why I came to you for help! You must help me if you want to atone for your sins!"

  
"You never knew how to ask, Lily, you always only demanded, and was offended if something did not go your way!" Snape protested. " Go and ask James Potter for help!"

  
“He doesn't understand anything about the Dark Rituals!"

  
"Oh, and I surely do! You have always argued that Dark magic is not for people like you, and heavenly punishment awaits us all, and now you are on my doorstep. Why do you need me, tell me?"

  
“To save my son,” Lily blurted out and covered her face with her hands. “I’m not hiding anything from you, Severus, I am telling you that I just want to save Harry. He is the most precious thing I have. I need your help. You are my friend. Let's make a deal."

  
“I needed your friendship when your Gryffindor friends took my pants off in front of the whole School, when I was bullied and humiliated, and you blurted out the spells I had invented. Don't think I'm such an idiot, Lily, and I'll be forever in love with your memory,” Snape snapped.

  
In the next instant, Lily crossed the room and knelt before Severus.

  
"I have nothing more to offer you, but if it helps me save Harry..."

  
Her willing body. Soft skin. A wave of fiery hair. Desirable woman. She had not been his love anymore, but she was still desired. The most logical thing would be to tell Lily to leave the country and leave him alone, but at the moment when she so willingly surrendered herself to Severus's passion, he was hardly able to think logically. As well as to think in general.

  
Her kisses burned and beckoned to be imprinted in his memory, to burn with a spark in his soul for many years. She called him for her, like the fairy queen she always had been, and he followed blinded by her light, already knowing that bargaining with the wily fairies had never done anyone any good.

  
Lily's flames engulfed him, and he was ready to burn.

  
And then they did the ritual.

  
Lily drew the runes of life and sprinkled them with her blood, summoned all the power of light to enclose a piece of her magic in a potion of the Life-giving blood, and then give it to Harry to drink. Severus belayed, he shared his power with her, he made sure the ritual didn't get out of hand. He was a half-blood, his magic allowed him to make this deal with the darkness to help his beloved woman. And he loved her in those strange moments when life itself was at stake. He was very afraid of losing.

  
Her magic remained in Harry. Her memory embodied itself in the Patronus of Doe. Everything light and everything dark that was in Severus' life, one way or another, intertwined with Lily, their short-lived friendship, their fleeting passion, and vows that he recklessly made to her.

  
Later, when he was taken to Azkaban, and Minerva and Poppy blackmailed Dumbledore day and night, persuading him to help Severus, Snape managed to reconsider his whole life and did not like the conclusions.

  
He was again full of debts and vows like a forgotten apple tree was full of rotting apples. He owed Dumbledore his salvation, he had to repay Lily and James with his very life and had to nurse their offspring because Lily's magic was embodied in his Patronus and because his own magic helped to carry out the ritual.

  
His own life reminded Severus of a tangle of torn threads, in which everything was so confused that it was impossible to find the end from which it all once began.

  
Occlumency helped him survive several months in Azkaban, but something in him then broke, as if the damned Dementors, after all, managed to suck from him the last faith in the light.

  
Poppy Pomfrey pulled him out of jail and came to meet him in person when he was allowed to leave.

  
“Mom… Mom, I’m so confused,” Severus muttered in confusion, clutching the confident palm of the Mediwitch in his trembling fingers.

She led him away from this place, Just like when he was a child and she used to find him at the Astronomical Tower and took him by the hand to the Hospital Wing to feed, comfort, and put him to bed.

  
"Give yourself time, son, everything will be fine. I'm with you."

  
Finally, Severus released the Patronus to inform Minerva and the Malfoys that he was fine, and the doe turned into a raven, which immediately soared into the sky.

  
Lily's death took all the light out of Snape's life.

****

Now, sitting by the fireplace, sipping his whiskey and battling a migraine attack, Severus desperately wanted to bring back into his life the light that his wife had briefly ignited.

  
_"Give yourself time."_ Severus realized with annoyance that he had no time.


	16. Wormwood

Severus watched Hermione. He meticulously drew up potions instructions for Hermione, he vigilantly watched for the order to reign both in the castle and in the laboratory, and he regularly brewed the Wolfsbane for the damn Lupin. Severus was still putting the safety of children above his own prejudices, he counted the days until the end of November and kept his vigilant watch over everything.

  
He watched everything together and everyone in particular, trying to understand how much the war, traumas, and personal loss had changed them. The castle itself, always noisy and filled with light, seemed to become quieter as if somehow frozen in anticipation of cold weather.

  
Severus was not afraid of the cold, winter was the eternal companion of his introspection. He loved to close the flaps of his winter cloak, put on his heavy boots, and leave to wander through the Forbidden Forest in search of rare plants that grow only in certain months of winter.

  
In the forest, as a rule, only silence reigned, interrupted by the cries of random birds or the rustling of the paws of animals disturbed by a sudden invasion into their space. Severus believed that he and the Forbidden Forest spoke the same language. Sometimes he saw a thestral foal timidly hiding behind its mother, or a raven, or red squirrels, who were not bothered by any bad weather.

  
Severus loved winter. The gloomy time seemed to test everyone's strength, leaving only the bravest to meet the spring. Or the most desperate. Snape recalled how, as a child, when he no longer hoped to win the love of his parents but still believed that Poppy Pomfrey was a good fairy godmother who would always help him, he often ran into the forest, slipping away from the watchful eye of the mediwitch, and wandered there in silence, listening to the whisper of the trees.

  
Poppy was sure that Severus was testing her patience with such antics, but she didn't even think about giving in to his provocations. Slytherin or not, Snape remained a little child for her, devoid of maternal love and paternal protection. All of them, the children of Hogwarts, one way or another, were under her care. Minerva shook her head and often reprimanded Poppy for being too sentimental.

  
"You must understand, our task is to educate them as worthy witches and wizards, and you constantly wipe their snotty noses."

  
“Of course, in your kingdom of severity and lost points, someone needs to remind the children that they are still children and not your experimental projects,” Poppy lifted her nose and looked indignantly at Minerva. “And you’re not hiding a box of ginger newts in a drawer to treat your homesick first years, are you?”

  
Minerva sighed.

  
"You know, sometimes I cannot stand your annoying perceptiveness. I'm guilty, your honor, I confess. But Poppy, you spoil them too much anyway, all of them! Especially Severus!"

  
“Did you see the scars on his back? The bruises? Or the haunted look? I have been working with children for more than ten years, Minerva, I see when they really have problems, and when they are just being capricious."

  
In response, Poppy usually took off her dark blue coat, wrapped a bright green scarf around her neck, took red gloves from the shelf, put a yellow hat on her head, and went looking for Severus. For him, she was a magic fairy who appeared to him in the colors of Hogwarts to help, not dividing his misdeeds and successes into "good and bad."

  
Severus stubbornly kept hiding in the corridors of Hogwarts from her. He made the Astronomical Tower his own kingdom, frequently running away from the Hospital Wing, and there, with bated breath, he waited for Poppy to find him late at night to take him by the hand and lead him to her quarters. There, in her bright and warm rooms, she usually fed him with pea soup and shepherd's pie, she gave him tea and sat him down to do his homework, while she was busy with hospital records and brewing potions.

  
As time went on, the wood in the fireplace burned out, the tea cooled, Severus finished his homework and sat down with Poppy, carefully watching her chop the ingredients, heat the cauldron to the correct temperature, and move the herbal board closer, suggesting Severus to chop the wormwood and valerian root.

  
These were his first lessons in Potions. This was Poppy: the first person who saw in Snape something more than bad character and unsociability.

  
In the moments of his greatest defeats, Severus always rushed to her to sit in her bright chambers, drink tea with rose hips, eat shepherd's pie and call her _mother_. Deep down, he really considered her his mother, but he never dared to admit it to her.

  
Now, walking through the snowy forest, Severus knew he missed her like Hell.

Outside the Forbidden Forest life went on as usual. Snape counted the days until the end of November, Hermione was a diligent student of Lupin. She plunged headlong into her apprenticeship, forgetting about lunches and breakfasts, and functioning, it seemed, only on coffee and her own despair.

  
In the morning, Hermione, as a rule, left the rooms allocated to her and ran to the Ministry to prove to them that she knew better, and they were just a flock of uneducated baboons. In the evening, she returned to Hogwarts, where she immediately rushed to Remus and spent long hours with him in the Dueling Room. Hermione had greatly improved her fighting skills since the war, fighting the werewolf on equal terms. But only Severus knew that she was motivated not by skill, not by the desire to become better, but by banal despair and anger at herself.

  
Snape knew better than anyone else that self-hatred and the inability to admit his own mistakes were inevitable. Hermione was never able to recover from her own perfectionism, and new setbacks only exacerbated her prolonged depression.

  
She armed herself with a wand and rage and learned new spells, practiced counter-spells, read about magical creatures that might appear in her training of the Mistress of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and believed that somewhere beyond the horizon, an exciting future awaited her, devoid of this all-consuming despair and vexation. 

  
And closer to midnight, when it became unbearable to fight, she hastily took a shower, changed into clean clothes, and went down to Snape in the dungeons to bend over the cauldron in silence and watch the herbs turn into magic. Severus did not interfere with her personal meditation, preferring to leave written comments on the table, and silently left to work on his own research.

  
Hermione craved silence. Silence and warmth. Snape noticed how her gaze faded, how eternal enthusiasm disappeared, how she dropped her hands more and more often and fell silent in mid-sentence, he noticed everything but did not know how to help her yet. She lived as if out of habit, hoping that her stubbornness would be able to overcome her depression. Hermione, like mad, grabbed on new projects, never being able to bring any of them to the end. She had written and rewritten numerous complaints to the Ministry in an effort to create better conditions for the Magical races. On Friday night, she gazed wistfully out the Astronomy Tower windows, expecting an owl from Harry or Ron. Potter wrote frequently, invited her to visit, or shared his latest news. Weasley limited himself to polite phrases and a promise to definitely write a longer letter one day. Did Hermione love him? No. But she missed their former friendship terribly. On weekends, she took Teddy Lupin and went with him to London to pamper him to the point of impossibility, sometimes she drank tea with Remus after dinner, and in the evenings she came back to Snape's and brewed potions, now and then distracted by her own thoughts. On one such evening, Severus could not resist, he stood by and held Hermione's hand as she reached for the hazel stirrer.

  
“Miss Granger, it seemed to me that you passed Potion Making at a high enough grade not to neglect basic safety rules."

  
Hermione frowned, returning to reality.

  
“I don’t understand, sir."

  
"Hazel will neutralize all the magical properties of wormwood, and your Soothing Potion will simply be spoiled. Such incompetence should not be shown when working with medicinal potions, especially with sedatives."

  
Hermione blushed but didn't even think to apologize.

  
“I've been making my own antidepressants for several years now, Professor Snape, I'm not as hopeless in potions as you say."

  
"Is it really so? Is it that incompetent brew of antidepressants, the bottles of which I continue to find in the trash can?" Snape rapped out and stood right in front of Hermione, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
"Will you again claim that I haven't learned anything in the six years of your mentoring?" Hermione responded harshly and fished a bottle out of her pocket and thrust it under Snape's nose. He moved closer and pretended to sniff: St. John's wort, valerian, ginkgo, ginseng.

  
"Miss Granger, this decoction does not even pull the lowest score, it is deadly dangerous. Valerian root, mixed with other sedatives, enhances their effect and can lead to unpredictable results. John's wort should not be taken by people who take antidepressants frequently. These herbs affect serotonin levels, and mixed with Muggle pills, they lead to unpredictable consequences. Ginseng is a popular herbal remedy for toning. Combining ginseng with antidepressants sometimes leads to manic psychosis, and combining with caffeine they can cause irritability. And you are unabashedly playing the mediwitch here, and constantly mix Muggle medicine with this herbal brew of dubious quality."

  
"You do not understand!" Hermione shrieked, reaching for her potion, but Snape held up his hand, preventing her from reaching.

“On the contrary, I understand all too well how you hide PTSD behind your work, how you escape depression by hiding in Hogwarts and pretending to be a diligent student of Remus, and how you seek silence in the dungeons. You need help, Miss Granger, not those dubious decoctions.” With that, Snape squeezed the bottle sharply in his hand and poured the shards onto the floor.

  
"Do you even know how much these ingredients cost?" Hermione gasped, sinking to the floor and staring at the broken potion in shock.

  
“No more valuable than your common sense, which you seem to have lost somewhere along the way,” Snape rapped out and left the room.

  
However, he did not manage to get far: Hermione's sobs pinned him to the spot, forcing him to stop and think. Yes, this time he acted in the best traditions of the soulless Slytherins, hurling the bitter truth in her face. Did it make him feel better? She was his wife, and he did not know her at all. They had a chance to get closer, but Snape spent it on meaningless quarrels and reproaches, and now, when Marriage Law loomed on the horizon, and she spent every free minute in the laboratory, he continued to hone sarcasm and to be inactive.

  
Snape clenched his fists and shook his head stubbornly; this was no good. Then he went back with a decisive step.

  
Hermione sat on the floor and perplexedly fingered the broken glass, large tears of resentment and disappointment flowed down her cheeks, but she did not notice this at all until an accidental splinter injured her palm. Hermione screamed and stared at her bloody finger. In the next instant, Snape was beside her.

  
“Here, now, Miss Granger, let's heal your hand."

  
Hermione turned her haunted gaze on him and suddenly grabbed onto his robes, hiding her face on his chest. Snape was at first taken aback, and then - gently pulled her to him, burying his nose on the top of her head and muttering all sorts of nonsense: that everything would be fine, and she was completely safe, and he was there for her.

  
She was shaken by a massive shiver, her ragged breathing breaking the silence of the laboratory, but she only clung tighter to Snape.

  
“Professor, will you… will you help me?"

  
"Of course, I will help you. Tomorrow we'll start learning how to properly brew sedatives" Snape answered, only now realizing that she was asking for something completely different.

  
"May ... may I c-come h-here?" T's so c-calm. And I ... I'm sc-c-ared of loud n-noises."

  
"Just stay out of the cold."

  
"I w-will ... thanks, P-professor."

  
The Marriage Act was just a few weeks away.


	17. Bluebells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, and blessed winter holidays to all my readers! Thank you for being there for this story =)

Over the past week, a certain routine had developed between Snape and Hermione. They began to spend more and more time together, working on different potions in the evenings. Hermione craved silence, so she sought a safe haven in his laboratory. Snape tried to collect his thoughts and outline his plan of action.

  
A little less than seven days remained till the Marriage Law, and Severus was just numb with fear of ruining everything with one careless movement, or an accidentally thrown word, or his usual venomous remarks. Therefore, he opted for the best, in his opinion, strategy: he chose to remain silent until Hermione herself would decide to start a conversation with him. So they worked, separated by a wide table, hidden from each other by cauldrons of various shapes and sizes, each immersed in their own thoughts.

  
Hermione was thinking about her future work, she was probably imagining herself a skillful destroyer of dark curses, a Mistress of Defense against the Dark Arts.

  
Snape waited. He continued to watch her and wait. His perception told him that sooner or later Hermione would not stand the silence and would begin the first conversation with him. Miss Granger was always too vivid and bright to allow herself to sink in her own indecision. Yes, she loved the seclusion of libraries, she admired bookstores filled with old books in shabby covers, she was fascinated by sorting different herbs or inventing potions theories, but all her ideas were always accompanied by lively comments and active gesticulation.

  
After the war, Hermione was mostly silent.

  
She regularly performed her apprenticeship, she brought Snape her perfectly brewed potions and tinctures, she kept her workplace in order, and remained silent.

  
Sometimes she froze over the slowly simmering cauldron, as if enchanted by the play of light on the surface of the potion, and muttered to herself, silently listing the aromas of her Amortentia: cherry, rain, juniper, bluebells.

  
And Snape closed his eyes, trying to suppress his memories.

****

It was sunny August, and the inhabitants of Hogwarts were delighted by its warmth and amber sunsets. Snape never understood what was special about the approaching autumn, but Hermione always found this season fascinating.

  
Hermione chirped incessantly as she continued to share her excitement about September. She was excited about the golden autumn. She was ready for apple pies that the house-elves would indulge in Hogwarts, and she shared plans for how she and Luna and Draco would decorate the Main Hall, and other things as such. Snape failed to understand her passion.

  
Hermione had already turned their dungeon chambers into something similar to the Tower of Gryffindor by painting the walls in sunny yellow and spreading dark brown carpets on the floor. She shone with energy, infecting everyone around her with efficiency. Minerva insisted with a grin that marriage definitely changed people and sometimes even for the better. Snape ignored her comments. What kind of family idyll could there be if he and Hermione fought three times a day, and, not getting to any conclusion, in the end, they went to sleep in separate bedrooms?

  
He certainly did not imagine his family life that way.

  
Moreover, it would be foolish to say that, in all his life, Snape ever thought about the happiness of a family man. The very idea went against his outlook on life, difficult fate, and general principles.

  
Perhaps, in the years of his naive youth, he still thought about getting married one day and getting an heir or heiress, but the subsequent service to Voldemort, war, espionage, and endless life debts, showed him how unreal his dreams were.

  
In addition, he and Hermione had not yet managed to get close enough for their union to be considered successful.

  
He was tired of constantly bickering with her. Sometimes Snape thought that this entire Ministry-imposed marriage was a huge mistake in his life, in its endless foolishness comparable only to his accepting the Dark Mark. He understood that he did not make his wife happy, and instead of taking her to a frank conversation, he preferred to remain silent and do nothing. Hermione for her part risked her life daily at work that was meaningless, in his opinion, and fought for the rights of those who did not need her help or her sympathy.

  
Hermione secretly dreamed of having a baby. She never voiced her wishes to Snape, but in those rare moments when they managed to make love, instead of making endless war, he heard her whisper: _“If we ever have a daughter, we'll call her Eileen Astra. Eileen Astra Snape. I like that"._

  
She was jealous of her new surname, not hesitating to prove to Kingsley himself that her name was now Hermione Snape, and the hackneyed "Miss Granger" became the annals of history.

  
Snape did not understand the surrealism of what was happening. An exemplary wife waiting for her husband to come home in the evenings, children calling him dad ... he refused to believe in the likelihood of such an outcome. And at the same time, Lupin was constantly looming before Snape's eyes, telling tales of Teddy's tricks all day long.

  
Severus didn't know how to treat the werewolf. It was not in his competence to condemn and seek justice, everyone paid for their sins in their own time, but looking at how Remus was babysitting his little son, Snape understood that Lupin, after all, snatched his chance for happiness from the very hands of fate.

  
Severus owed something to the werewolf. Not that he was going to acknowledge his merits, but still. It was Lupin who saved Minerva McGonagall during the Battle of Hogwarts, losing sight of his own wife for just a second. Snape recalled how he once succumbed to a sentimental impulse and arranged a drinking bout with the werewolf in the past: both made mistakes, sometimes fatal, both missed their chances in life, both tried to save, but could not.

  
Although, while Snape jumped from the frying pan and into the fire, trying to change his own unfortunate past, Lupin devoted his life to his son, leaving the chance for happiness in the past.

  
Even now, Severus recalled his not-too-happy past with Hermione and knew that he had to try. Even for the sake of those few joyful moments that they had. That autumn, the last autumn before the tragedy, was still lingering before Snape's inner gaze. It was a beautiful autumn. The aroma of apples was in the air, the jam was being cooked in the kitchen, and Hermione grabbed his hand and dragged him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest: to read, relax and enjoy life.

  
"I don't care that you are working on the theses and have to prepare lectures for the seventh-year students, life flies by while you pore over papers!" Hermione declared, her hands on her hips, and stood stubbornly in front of Snape.

  
"I never noticed such idleness in you before, Miss Granger," Snape grumbled without looking up.

  
“Your life is passing by, Mr. Snape,” Hermione said in tune and summoned a picnic basket. "As for the theses, you know, they can be finished in the fresh air. Come on, Severus."

  
Snape thoughtfully watched his wife's excessive enthusiasm for a while, and having found no better solution, he decided to succumb to Hermione's provocation.

The autumn forest was full of bright colors, filled with aromas of herbs and a smell of approaching fog, which would surely come from the mountains in the evening. It was warm, the setting sun only intensified the bright range of yellowing leaves, giving a feeling of melancholy and admiration for the change of seasons, forgotten over the years.

  
Hermione stretched out on the checkered bedspread and patted next to her, inviting Snape to join her. He reluctantly settled under a nearby juniper and pretended to be passionate about working on his research. Hermione glared at him and moved closer, unceremoniously placing her head in his lap. He had to roll his eyes in indignation and move the folder aside so as not to hide the sun from her.

  
"Can you read to me? Pretty please…"

  
And how was there to refuse when she made him puppy eyes and smiled so touchingly?

  
“Are you sure you want to listen to a lecture on the application of the third law of Arithmancy to Potion Making?”

  
“I don’t care, I love your intonations,” Hermione replied boldly, making herself comfortable and closing her eyes.

  
So they spent several hours: Snape read, Hermione listened, occasionally inserting witty comments and making observations on the case.

Reluctantly, Snape admitted that he even enjoyed spending time with her. She was a worthy companion, equal to him in intelligence and level of education. Even though Hermione sometimes lacked his ability to see the essence of things and calculate future moves, either in life or in Potions, she more than compensated for her lack of ability to quickly grasp new information and notice details.

  
On the way back, when Snape carried a picnic basket like a gentleman and walked Hermione by the hand, preventing her from tripping over a snag, she bent over the bluebells that grew here, by the magic of the Forest preserved their freshness until the beginning of autumn.

  
“I love these flowers, my dad used to give them to my mom for the holidays,” Hermione said, smiling sadly.

  
Snape knew that she had never been able to help her parents, but he didn’t bother asking questions.

  
“Thank you for agreeing to spend this afternoon with me. My parents and I always celebrated the end of summer in the forest, at a picnic, and I wanted to have a dear person with me on this day of sad memories."

  
Did she consider him a close person? Did he hear right? How could he deserve her recognition, if the only thing they did was constant bickering and reproaching each other?

  
On the way to the castle, Hermione hugged Snape's arm and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

  
“Please don't call me Miss Granger again, even if you want to annoy me. My name is Madame Snape."

****

The Marriage Act was due to be passed tomorrow night, and Snape was determined to give Miss Granger the name she so longed for.


	18. Blackthorns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter containing the Marriage proposal is finally here :)

Monday morning came with the inexorability of doom, with the inevitability of evil fate, waiting around the bend to fall on Snape's head, demanding retribution. Not that he had no sins to atone. Rather, Severus simply did not like Mondays, and over the years he spent at Hogwarts, Monday mornings answered him with absolute reciprocity.

  
At first, he suffered from insomnia. Closer to midnight, his restless wanderings round the chambers were replaced by a migraine brought by snowfall, and finally, at dawn, he was awakened by Crookshanks, who again made his way into Snape's chambers totally unexpected though not unwelcomed. Having suffered until the gray November pre-dawn twilight, Snape hesitated between the desire to swallow the dreamless sleep potion, which caused him a terrible addiction since the war, and a glass of Firewhiskey. After some careful thinking, he dismissed both options as meaningless and went out into the corridor. Crooks, like an insistent red flame, hurried after him.

  
It didn't take Sybil Trelawney's talent to understand what exactly disturbed Snape on this gray morning, shrouded in frost and anticipation of another storm. Today... everything was supposed to happen today, closer to midnight. Alarmed and completely confused, Hermione must find herself in Minerva's office. She must experience extreme stress, which would entail another panic attack. After that, the frightened Headmistress would ask for help, and the Ministry would accept its infamous Law.

  
Severus was determined to make the coming situation as bearable as possible, both for himself and for Hermione.

  
He worried about her. More and more with each new day. In the past, his wife was radiant with energy, if not spreading her optimism everywhere, then exactly finding words of support for everyone. In the present, she was prone to silence most of the time. Hermione developed a routine of going to the library or spending her time in the greenhouses. Maybe even hiding in Severus' laboratory and experimenting with dark potions. Snape did not approve of this but decided to wait with his poisonous remarks for now. There was no need for them to quarrel now. It would be absolutely useless.

  
Thinking so, Snape made his way to the Astronomical Tower unnoticed to everyone and froze at the entrance, noticing Hermione standing thoughtfully at the railing.

  
"Good night, Professor. Or better say, good morning," Hermione whispered, grinning at her own thoughts.

  
Snape stepped inside and stood next to Hermione, not breaking the silence with unnecessary comments.

  
Snowflakes were slowly falling from the sky, covering the ground frozen over the fall, and it seemed that the annual arrival of winter, despite the cold weather, made the world a little warmer, as if covering it with a blanket.

  
"Ron left for Romania and he is quite happy with his dragons. Recently he sent me a letter saying that he found himself a clever witch named Iona, he is sure that no one can cope better with baby dragons than her. I'm happy for him. Harry and Ginny are preparing to announce their engagement. Neville and Luna seem to have unexpectedly got teaching jobs and acquired love as a bonus. And Merlin forbid, I'm not complaining."

  
“Which is why you came to the Astronomical Tower at a pre-dawn time: to express your thoughts into the void."

  
"Why not? I think you are a worthy companion to express my thoughts to," Hermione muttered and looked Snape in the eyes. He averted his gaze.

  
“This place is not a good choice for confessions, Miss Granger, and I’m hardly a sympathetic listener."

  
"Nevertheless. You could advise me to go find Remus and pour out my heart to him, but for some reason, you are here and still have not chased me away."

  
“It was I who invaded your personal space this strange morning, after all."

  
"Ah, that's true. So, don't get me wrong: Remus is my friend, he and I went through a lot. I experienced a lot of bad things together with each of the inhabitants of Hogwarts, as I experienced them together with you," Hermione deliberately highlighted the last phrase, not noticing Snape's grip on the railing. “But he's a werewolf."

  
"I have not noticed your dislike of magical creatures before."

  
"I'm not talking about his illness, Professor, leave your prejudices. It's just that werewolves choose a mate for themselves for life, he has already chosen his. And lost her in that damned battle that changed our lives forever."

  
Snape froze, as if thunderstruck: this remark, casually thrown by Hermione, at once put all his indecision at rest. How could he forget this characteristic feature of wolves? Indeed, it was true that the werewolf had only one she-wolf for life. Magic would not allow him to find a partner for a second time. Feeling a nasty chill run down his spine, Snape decided to ask a question that worried him the most:

  
"Would you... Would you like to become a werewolf mate, Miss Granger, forgive my straightforwardness?"

  
“I have nothing against werewolves, and I am still not finished with my project regarding the rights of the Magic Races, but as I said, Remus is my friend. He's like the older brother I never had. Like Harry, only Remus is more open, or like Ron, only more serious. He is always ready to listen to my complaints and he is ready to gossip about the Ministry together, he is always eager to help me with the Dark Curses, and he always knows what exactly worries me today. We spent the first post-war year together. I helped Remus take care of Teddy, and he helped me lick my wounds after losing my parents, so to say. I owe him."

  
_“Yes, which is why you are jumping headlong into another crazy project: precisely in order to repay the wolf for his kindness and supportiveness,”_ Snape thought angrily. Her words left an unpleasant aftertaste on his tongue. Once again, the Marauder crossed his path, and Snape did not like the consequences. Remus knew a lot more about his wife than he knew himself. And who was to blame for this?

  
"Is that why you are looking for some crazy projects now? To thank Remus?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow in question. Hermione blushed and looked back in dismay, like a freshman who hadn't learned her lesson.

  
"How do you know about Sirius?"

  
“Miss Granger, only a deaf person has not heard about your conversation with Minerva, which was too enthusiastic, and, alas, even ghosts are not deaf at Hogwarts. So?"

  
Hermione was silent for a while, shifting from foot to foot, but after a while, nevertheless, she remembered her notorious Gryffindor courage and confessed barely audibly.

  
“I owe Sirius my life."

  
“Undoubtedly, which is why you decided to disturb the magic of the Arc of Death in order to return him the favor? How selfish of you, Miss Granger."

  
“Not at all,” said Hermione, quite sincerely surprised. “I am going to use Arc's magic to bring him back to the world of the living."

  
Once again it was Snape's turn to stare thoughtfully into the distance.

****

On the day of that terrible battle in the Ministry, which claimed the lives of so many people, deprived them of health, and became just another move in the cruel chess game between Dumbledore and Voldemort, where the fates of people were only considered as the pawns, Snape did not have time. Once again in his life, he did not have time to help the idiot Potter, who rushed to rescue his godfather, did not have time to grab a bunch of unreasonable children who decided to play heroes by the scruff of the neck, for he simply could not leave the School unattended.

  
Narcissa sent him anxious Patronuses every hour: her husband, her sister, and cousin were now risking their lives for some unknown reason. And what could Severus say to her? Both Sirius and Bella were incredibly similar in their madness, both defended their own ideals. Lucius, for his part, could not disobey Voldemort's direct order.

  
Severus paced his office and waited for the outcome.

  
Minerva tried to rule the chaos, that seemed to take over Hogwarts, but it would be easier to contain the bursting dam. Every now and then there were reports from Alastor Moody that the children had been seen here and there, that these idiots had managed to fly on thestrals, and that the Ministry atrium was full of Death Eaters.

  
Snape wanted desperately to get drunk. He cursed Gryffindor's recklessness and immediately entered into a meaningless argument with his inner voice, reminding him that it was Minerva - a lioness to the bone marrow - who once took him under her wing and practically adopted him. That boring mental monologue only heated Snape's already stretched nerves to the limit. He hated himself for the forced helplessness, the feeling, however, was not new to him.

  
And so, at the moment when he was about to overstep both Dumbledore's order and a desperate request to look after the children from Minerva who remained in the castle, a silver dog jumped in the window and shouted in Black's voice: _“Snape, damn you, run to the gate immediately. I need help here"._

  
Black was asking for help from his worst enemy? Thinking so, Snape was already running downstairs, fearing to know which one of the children had managed to get into trouble this time.

  
At the gate, Sirius handed Hermione, who was barely conscious and in immense pain, to Snape's outstretched arms and Apparated away without any further explanation. Dolokhov's dark curses were just as insidious in nature as Dolokhov himself. This particular spell Snape recognized immediately and barely suppressed the colorful swearing bursting out from his tongue: of course, the champion of Voldemort's ideas was far from showering the Muggle-born witch with roses. The black magic of this particular spell made it impossible for Muggles and Muggle-borns to have children. And only the abilities of a pureblood wizard, in theory, could remove the curse. Or the power of love. Snape shook his head ruefully, considering two options in his mind, and hurried to the Hospital Wing. At the moment, he was more interested in saving Miss Granger's life than in her hypothetical heirs.

  
Before losing consciousness, Hermione whispered, _"Will you help me, Professor?"_

_****_

Now Hermione was seriously concerned with the idea of bringing Black back from the other world. She was sure, if he hadn't hesitated that night in the Ministry, if he hadn't rushed to her rescue, he would have time to dodge Bellatrix's curse, and Harry would not have lost his only relative.

  
Snape for his part cursed himself for not thinking about returning his own Life Debt to Hermione. Perhaps he would not have to re-live this crazy year now if he announced his intention to repay Hermione for saving his life?

  
Yes, of course, he knew about the Life-giving Blood potion, with the help of which Hermione pulled him out of the afterlife, but he also knew that she did not demand a debt from him. Consequently, she saved his life completely unselfishly, as Black had once saved her. No, Snape emphatically did not understand the Gryffindors, with their stubborn tendency towards the triumph of good and justice.

  
Evening found Severus pacing nervously through the chambers, glancing at his watch every now and then. He was tormented by insomnia again, meditation and Occlumency would not help, and he could hardly resist the urge to rush into Minerva's office and learn the latest news about the Marriage Law.

  
As always in moments of extreme anxiety, Snape reached for the Castle. The Headmaster's powers gave him an excellent opportunity to find out about the whereabouts of everyone who was under the protection of the walls of Hogwarts. In the past he often used this trick, managing at the last moment to save the children from imminent disaster. Now all his thoughts were directed to Hermione.

  
Her feelings were in complete disarray, he could hear her muffled sobs and words of comfort from Minerva. Hermione possessed extreme frustration with life, fear of the future, and reluctance to leave Hogwarts. The latter surprised Severus.

  
He was about to leave the chambers and rush into the Headmistress's office when suddenly the Castle told him that Lupin was running along the corridors. The werewolf was the last person Snape wanted to see on this troubled night. Somebody pounded on his door several times.

  
"Severus, come, quickly! The Ministry has bad news for us, and Minerva urgently calls for you."

  
"Is Potter returning to Hogwarts to teach Divination?" Snape snapped as he walked around Remus and locked the door behind him.

  
"What are you on about? I'm talking about Marriage Law, not Harry. The Ministry issued a decree that all Muggle-borns must marry under forced marriage within the next month and acquire heirs by the fall of next year, otherwise, they will be forcibly evicted from Britain. We've been given a list of potential suitors, and half of them are vindicated Death Eaters."

  
"What about you? Where is your illustrious Gryffindor nobility?" Snape could not resist his venomous remark, and turning around, he looked at Lupin.

  
“I suppose, Severus, you know more about werewolf mating than I do. And Nymphadora was not just a female that turned up on my way, she was my she-wolf. I don't need another one,” Remus answered calmly and carefully. Snape broke out in a cold sweat.

  
"Go back to Minerva. I'll be right there."

  
“Help her, Severus, there’s no one else but you."

  
“I don’t need your morals, Lupin, leave them for Black. I heard Hermione was planning to bring him back from the afterlife."

  
"And you started calling her by her name, I see," Remus said cryptically and hurried back.

  
Snape didn’t focus on his parting remark and instead closed his eyes in concentration. After a while, the stone floor under his bare feet warmed up, marking the shortest route to the Headmistress' office, bypassing treacherous flights and moving stairs. Snape had done a similar trick more than once in the past - taking off his shoes and letting Castle guide him toward his goal. Without Headmaster's ordering, but asking for help from Hogwarts.

  
Despair, confusion, and general depression were clearly felt in Minerva's office. Hermione rubbed her eyes sore with tears with a handkerchief, Minerva worriedly dripped the Soothing Tincture into the glass of water. Snape froze in the doorway.

  
“Severus, thank Merlin! Miss Granger wants to talk to you so I will leave you for a little while,” Minerva said hastily and left her office.

  
Hermione gave Snape a haunted look and, her head down, spoke, barely uttering a word.

  
"The Ministry issued its Decree on Marriage, which they promised us from the very end of the War. An excellent choice awaits me: to become the wife of Yaxley, or Dolokhov, or perhaps the son of Rookwood, who tortured dozens of innocent people to death. Ron caught Dragon Pox and has been in quarantine for a month, not that he agreed to marry me, he is quite happy with his Romanian sorceress. I will have to leave Britain, where everything has just begun to work out for me. Of course, I will get out of the Sirius Arch. And after that, I'll leave."

  
"Where to?" Snape asked, feeling completely discouraged.

  
"I have no idea. Perhaps I will go to my parents in Australia, rent a house next door, get a job in some bakery and pretend that I don’t know that such lovely people once had a daughter. Also, I'll write letters and send cards for Christmas, and miss Hogwarts,'' Hermione whispered and suddenly raised her head, burning Snape with her gaze. “I would like to say goodbye, Severus, while there is still time."

  
"What are you talking about? Wait!"

  
But Hermione did not have time to answer: the panic attack, restrained with the help of sedative drops, finally made itself known. Snape rushed to her, lifted her to her feet, hugged her closer, placed her bare feet on his feet, and cast a spell.

  
_"Calor Aeternam!"_

  
"It's the spell of the magic of eternal warmth," commented the eternal know-it-all in Hermione, trustingly clinging tightly to Snape once more, "It draws strength from the very soul of the conjurer, but... why? Why would you waste such powerful magic on me?"

  
"I want to help," Snape replied, trying to warm her icy fingers with his breath.

  
From the outside, they might seem like they were dancing or doing a famous scene from Pride and Prejudice, they didn't care.

  
"What do you mean?"

  
"Will you marry me, Hermione?" Severus whispered.

  
She smiled, hiding her face on his chest, and closed her eyes. She felt warm.


	19. Tulips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, my dear readers! Love you to the moon and back! Stay amazing and magical =)

__

_"Will you be my wife, Hermione?",_ those words of Snape continued to echo in Granger's thoughts as she frantically tried to figure out what to do with her life next. She had to make the decision on whether to accept or to reject Snape's unexpected offer until next midnight.

  
Of course, his words excited her, but she continued to look around in confusion as if the recently started snowfall could provide an answer to his question.

  
Hermione acquired a chance to become Snape's wife. Her inner voice sarcastically suggested that this option was much better than seeking political asylum in Australia. Especially now, since Hermione would not have to leave England, it would be possible to continue her apprenticeship at Hogwarts and prepare for the Mistress of Defense against the Dark Arts degree. Nevertheless, the cold calculation did not help her feelings that were in disarray.

  
Hermione didn't know how to react to Snape. And the point was not at all that he was almost two decades older than her, and, in truth, he had a rather dark past.

  
" _You could have chosen Remus_ ," a cheerful inner voice whispered to her, but Hermione just brushed it off with annoyance.

  
She didn't mind becoming Madame Snape at all, and the realization of this fact frustrated her to no end. Those few months spent with Snape told Hermione much more than the secretive and eternally immersed former professor could ever tell her himself. They underestimated Snape, all of them who had the misfortune of knowing him in the past, and of course, Hermione was no exception. She always believed that he was full of unresolved problems, past regrets, and old scars, but the work under his patronage and his actions, both as her mentor and as the Head of Slytherin, made her understand many things, making her laugh sadly at her own naivety...

  
Hermione had the feeling that all the inhabitants of Hogwarts outgrow their pain and just moved on. Snape didn't have time for unnecessary thinking about his own past. He took care of an entire faculty of children left without parental support. He helped to rebuild the Castle and establish the educational process. Snape wrote theses on improving existing potions or worked on improving the Wolfsbane. He looked for a cure for Narcissa Malfoy, who wasn't feeling well after the War, and of course, Snape answered Hermione's endless questions about Forbidden Potions.

  
His unquenchable enthusiasm and stubbornness made her follow his example. Hermione watched without commenting on his behavior, and each of his actions evoked deep gratitude in her soul. As if by chance, he taught her to be better than her current version of herself.

  
On one dusky and rainy evening, when Hermione happened to work late on another version of the scar ointment that she had been struggling with in vain for several months, the light flickering from under the door of the Head's office caught her attention. Hermione had noticed that Snape preferred to work on his projects until dawn. He never wasted time on sleep or other unnecessary things: like food or tea. That's why the fact that he still had not gone to bed did not surprise her. She was surprised by the childish voice that sounded from the office. The owner of the whiny intonations was a girl from Gryffindor - Emilia Adams, who fell victim to an attack of one of Greyback's men. She was lucky, she escaped with only a scar, avoiding infection, but this did not stop her classmates from declaring Emilia an outcast. Hermione frowned and stepped closer, listening. Snape said something in a muffled tone, trying not to scare the already upset girl with his comments.

  
“They said, sir, they said that I was a werewolf, and there was no place for me among normal people,” Emilia whimpered, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Hermione opened the door. Snape sat the girl down next to him on the sofa and offered her a handkerchief.

  
"So, who sets the criteria for normality, tell me, Millie?" Snape asked seriously.

  
“I thought they were my friends, but they drove me out of the Tower and told me not to appear in the bedrooms again, because I have scars. And if Granny finds out about this, she will never accept me at home again."

  
Emilia kept talking, while Hermione felt anger boiling inside her: how many more children like Miss Adams were there in the Castle: blinded by prejudice against which the best wizards and witches of Britain fought and gave their lives? It wasn't even that the rivalry was coming from Gryffindor. Hermione knew Ravenclaw Prefect, a brilliant graduate whose magic reserves had dwindled so much during the War that she had practically become a Squib. The Slytherin 5th year boy had lost the ability to use his wand hand, and Snape personally spent days and nights developing an anti-paralysis potion, while Flitwick taught the boy how to use his other hand. Hufflepuff freshmen slept huddled together like cubs or badgers because their parents feared for their children's lives so much that they never left them alone.

  
How many more broken destinies did the wise walls of Hogwarts keep?

  
“Scars don't make us outcasts, Emilia,” Snape said quietly, “they just show that we were able to survive where others could not. Yes, our scars are unlikely to bring us happiness, but no one has the right to reproach us for being different from others. As for your peers, I will bring information to Professor Lupin, it seems that he is temporarily heading Gryffindor, helping the Headmistress. I'm sure he gives them an entertaining lecture on the life of werewolves."

  
Emilia sniffed and turned to see Hermione frozen in the doorway. Snape nodded and motioned for her to sit. Hermione hesitated for a few moments, made up her mind, and carefully sat down on the edge of the sofa. Rage bubbled through her. Everything she fought against was ready to go to dust due to the cruelty of unreasonable children. She fiddled with the hem of her jacket thoughtfully, not noticing that her own scar, left by Bellatrix, was on display.

  
Miss Adams, quick-witted like all children, ran back, clutching a note from Snape to be given to Remus to her chest, while Hermione remained in the room, pensively watching the play of flames in the brightly burning fireplace.

  
"Has it all been in vain?" Hermione muttered in a low tone, clutching her scarred wrist to her chest. "It won't be long before a new generation of children will grow up, and everyone will forget about the horrors of war and what we fought for?"

  
“I’d guess it’s all for the best, Miss Granger, because that was the point: to give this world a new future free from nightmares and prejudices. As for the children, rest assured, I will take care of them. I think that a trip to St. Mungo, to the department of victims of the Dark Curses, will open their eyes to many things, and the remaining lesson will be taught by Remus, who will honestly tell them how werewolves lived before the war."

  
"It's cruel."

  
"Indeed, it is. Most children are cruel, this does not mean that we should mollycoddle them."

  
"Nevertheless, you keep helping orphans and those in need, why?"

  
"Probably because they are like flowers, haven't yet bloomed, and only we can let them wither or bloom. I have my own share of scars, and I am not ashamed of them, so I do not want them to be ashamed of theirs."

****

Snape tried to get ahead of time and prove to himself that he was worthy of a second chance. Not to say that there was even the first in his life. All his hopes had once melted like dew under the sun, but he was not going to give up. He gave Hermione time until midnight, not rushing her to answer.

  
His heart sank again at the memory of how he held her in his arms: she was alive, slightly confused, but still adamant in her determination, and beautiful in her own stubbornness. If the Gryffindor Lioness decided something for herself, it was difficult, almost impossible to convince her otherwise. In this, they were very similar. This and in a dozen other things.

  
Snape was surprised to realize that he had really gotten to know Hermione better. During these several months that they worked side by side, she opened up for him from many sides. He finally understood the character features of her, which he chose not to notice during their misfortuned first marriage. Snape was hiding behind his own bad character and despising the whole world for past misdeeds.

  
Hermione was determined. She possessed a heightened sense of justice, naively believing that in her hands there was the strength to change the usual way of things. She was also a workaholic, an incorrigible perfectionist with an idealistic outlook on life and exaggerated expectations. After that conversation in his office, she always gathered children around her and conducted additional classes with them on various subjects, as if she were trying to fill the void in her heart in this way. Not that Snape didn't understand her.

  
Who knew what the future would bring them...

  
So, when the clock struck eleven, Hermione knocked on his office and resolutely walked in, standing right in front of him. She was wearing simple Muggle jeans and a white polka dot shirt, her hair pulled back in a bun, and a dozen pendants dangling from her wrist: if Snape remembered correctly, Harry had given her this trinket last Christmas and she was out of herself with happiness, having got hold of a bright and absolutely meaningless bracelet. Not exactly the way he imagined their wedding, but did fate ever go in unison with his desires?

  
“I'm ready, Severus, I am ready to become your wife."

  
And at the same moment, Minerva, Luna, Lucius, and Flitwick entered the office, as if they only were waiting for a sign from Hermione.

  
Severus did not remember the ceremony itself. Minerva, as usual, gave a heartfelt speech, urging the newlyweds to love and respect each other. Lucius wished his friend many happy years, as he and Narcissa had. Luna hinted at the possibility of the birth of heirs - strong and intelligent magicians, the smartest in the history of Hogwarts. Severus pretended not to notice Hermione's gaze averted sadly. Filius, on the other hand, did not notice the confusion of the bride and groom at all, he was too preoccupied with the wizarding camera - his new hobby, which absorbed him entirely.

  
When Minerva, by the will of magic, declared them husband and wife, Filius snapped the shutter, capturing the moment in the photo. The couple was showered with a sheaf of golden sparks, promising a happy and long marriage. Hermione looked into Snape's eyes and smiled broadly.

  
It was not a forced smile with a shadow of gratitude, like the first time, today, a few minutes before midnight, she was really happy to be here. And the bouquet of barely blossoming tulips, presented by Severus, only emphasized this fact.

  
They became husband and wife.

  
_"Welcome home, Madame Snape,"_ Severus whispered a little later, terribly proud of himself, and, in obedience to an ancient tradition, carried her across the threshold.


	20. Tea leaves

__

_«We've gone down so many lonely roads_

_Searched for what we'd known was right around the corner_

_And I know from the time I saw your face_

_From our first embrace that you were the one» ©_

Blackmore's Night — Call It Love

The first week of marriage flew by so fast for Snape and Hermione that they didn't even have time to realize that they, in fact, were now married. Family life. The very phrase sounded alien to them. And if Snape was perfectly familiar with his principles regarding matrimony, then Hermione's opinion on marriage life, still, remained a mystery to him.

  
The past seven days, immediately following their impromptu wedding ceremony, turned their lives into absolute chaos. Snape put the potion stirrer aside, frowned in annoyance, and stared out the window.

  
Minerva was summoned to the Wizengamot, where she had to fight for the rights of orphaned children and imply the wonders of resourcefulness for which no Gryffindor was known until now. Having inherited from the deceased Albus not only the post of Headmistress but also the post of Supreme Sorceress - an example of honesty and justice - Minerva was not at all happy about this. For a while, she honestly tried to shove the responsibility assigned to her onto Snape's shoulders. He remained adamant.

  
“Severus, listen,” Minerva began smoothly when she happened to have tea in the Potions Master's office.

  
“Minerva, spare me, I beg you."

  
“You don’t even know what this will be about yet,” McGonagall asked in an innocent voice. Snape curled his lips and, with a gesture of a hospitable host, poured his own tea brew into cups.

  
"Madam, please, drink your tea, and keep your intrigues to yourself."

  
“Severus, you have every right to refuse my offer, but I want you to know that no one can handle the position of Supreme Sorcerer better than you. You take care of these children, you do your best to help their parents imprisoned in Azkaban, you are aware of the situation."

  
"Headmistress, I beg your pardon, but your words sound like a crazy farce to me. My fame as a Death Eater goes far beyond my so-called good deeds. Can you imagine what kind of hype the press will make when it finds out who exactly took the chair of the Supreme Sorcerer? And then, I take care of these children because once upon a time I was in a similar situation until Poppy practically adopted me," Snape paused for a while, indifferently sipping his tea, and then added, looking Minerva in the eyes, "And you, Minerva, adopted me as well. The fact for which I will forever be grateful to you."

  
McGonagall only brushed it off: the harsh Gryffindor lioness was not characterized by excessive sentimentality.

  
“Leave it, Severus, that's not the point. The point is that I will not be physically able to run the School and administer justice in the Wizengamot. And if Remus agreed to temporarily lead Gryffindor, then what to do with Hogwarts, I have no idea. Do you perhaps have any suggestions on what I shall do about the School?"

  
Ignoring Minerva's cunning squint, Severus set his cup down on the saucer and stretched lazily.

  
“You can always count on me, Headmistress."

  
“As much as you try to emphasize my title, my boy, we both know that the Castle itself has chosen you as its leader."

  
After Minerva's words, Severus straightened in his chair and leaned forward slightly.

  
“I never wanted to be a leader, Minerva. I would be much safer following the instructions of a wise commander than planning strategies and tactics on my own. The leader must be someone who cannot be broken, seduced with benefits or secret knowledge, and promises of false recognition. Yes, while the idea of joining the Death Eaters was the biggest mistake of my life, for a while I was almost happy. My thirst for knowledge was satisfied, it seemed to me that I was noticed. And who knows how the story would have turned out if I hadn't taken up espionage. The leader should be someone like Lucius, who will come to an agreement with the devil himself, someone like... Black," Snape squeezed the armrests, catching his breath. This unexpected conclusion made him recognize the potential of his once bitter enemy.

  
Minerva poured some tea into cups and motioned for Snape to continue.

  
"You know, I warned him about the Prophecy, I tried to convince him that Pettigrew was a traitor. I understand perfectly well that the past cannot be corrected, and this whole conversation has no meaning, but..."

  
“But you took care of Harry in your own way when all of his so-called relatives were too busy with revenge, just because you once tied yourself to the Life Debt of the Potters."

  
"Don't make excuses for me, Minerva," Snape waved away.

  
"I am not making excuses, I am, as you like to repeat, stating the obvious here. You are wrong to think that you are incapable of being a leader, Severus, the Castle itself chose and accepted you once. You know about that little intrigue made by Poppy and me. The one that allowed you to bypass Albus's direct order and avoid killing him at his request. After Dumbledore's death, I was supposed to lead Hogwarts, but the School called on you, and you responded."

  
"Poppy killed Albus to save me," Snape whispered, lowering his eyes. "Why, Minerva? Why did you continue to help me even when you found out that I joined Voldemort?"

“Because, Severus, not only are you tired of being a pawn in someone else’s game, but also because sometimes parents see the potential of their children much earlier than children themselves,” Minerva said and squeezed Severus's hand for a moment. "I have lost enough of my children in both senseless wars to stay on the sidelines when there is still a chance to fix everything."

  
Snape was silent for a while, pondering her words, then asked, voicing a sudden thought:

  
"Do you know about Hermione's intentions?"

  
"She tries to bring Sirius Black back? Debts must be repaid, Severus, you know perfectly well that the burden of guilt adversely affects the general welfare," Minerva smiled, "besides, Britain needs a leader, and Sirius needs to keep himself busy."

  
"That is, you have already decided everything for him?" Snape grumbled, sympathizing with his former enemy.

  
"Severus, listen to me: you have longed for peace and quiet all your life, you would be quite happy even in the Slytherin dungeons, even in the House on Grimmauld, even on a desert island. However, Albus Dumbledore decided otherwise: you had to establish social contacts, solve unsolvable problems, come up with strategies and tactics, while Black, active by nature, was forced to be a prisoner first in Azkaban, then in his own house. You managed to let go of the past, with the help of Poppy and me, you managed to let go of Lily, Sirius unlike you cherished only one feeling: revenge. Politicians don't like revolutionaries, Severus, so while raising a hero in Harry Potter, Albus skillfully got rid of those who might interfere with him. Until the Headmaster's stupidity and the Resurrection Stone intervened in the course of history. You know the rest of the story. And Sirius, meanwhile, saved Hermione from death, allow her to pay her debt."

  
Without waiting for an answer from Snape, Minerva straightened the folds in her robes and ceremoniously walked towards the exit, accidentally remarking in parting:

  
“The Hat offered you Gryffindor, my boy, don’t deny that; that's why I want to say that you have much more leadership qualities than you can imagine. Therefore, Severus, from next week the School will be under your control."

****

All the following days from Monday to Saturday, Snape was sure that he lived in his own revived nightmare, which was called: _"The forced Headmaster of Hogwarts and the problems that come his way."_ Someone threw a baby salamander into the Gryffindor Tower, fortunately, the fire was extinguished in time, and no one was hurt, but the fire victims were now forced to live with the Slytherins. Not to say that the warring faculties were too happy about this fact. Snape and Remus, who had entered into a non-aggression pact, had a shared opinion: it was time to eradicate the stupid rivalry between children once and for all, showing them that when united, they were capable of much more than apart.

  
Pomona Sprout fell ill with an inflammation of the middle ear, having received it by an absurd accident while working with mandrake embryos. Longbottom took care of the faculty temporarily and even had to postpone preparations for his own wedding.

  
Filius Flitwick was summoned to the annual world conference on goblin magic and race history. Filius, as a representative of these creatures, acted as a guest of honor and a respected magician. Ravenclaw in his absence was taken care of by Luna Lovegood. Severus was not worried about the blue-bronze faculty: the "eaglets" were capable of taking care for themselves, with their iron logic and incredible independence.

  
Hermione was torn between her ministry practice, the Advanced Charm final exams, and the Transfiguration lectures, which Snape had shamelessly pushed onto her shoulders when he couldn’t find a more qualified specialist.

  
“I can't believe it, Severus,” Hermione repeated, burying her nose in the lecture notes and blowing an annoying strand of hair from her forehead, “you passed NEWTs for the highest mark, and you claim that you don't understand Transfiguration?"

  
“Miss Granger, if you please, do you really yearn to catch rat-tailed tables around Hogwarts, or maybe chase broomsticks with bat wings with a net, or drink tea from teapots with turtle paws? Because I cannot give one hundred percent guarantee that something unaccounted for will not be conjured up during my practical seminars. I am a Potions Master, a duelist, a specialist in the Dark Arts, if you will. Turning pins into hedgehogs is hardly my forte."

  
Hermione looked up from her book and laughed at his words.

  
"Okay, I'll help you, but on one condition."

  
"I'm all the attention."

  
“Stop calling me Miss Granger and kiss me."

  
Snape was dumbfounded. Yes, he perfectly remembered that behind all the turmoil that fell on his head, they had not managed to consummate their marriage yet. Though, they acquired a habit of kissing each other. Hermione pecked him on the cheek in the morning, on her way to the Ministry. He gently left a kiss on the top of her head when she fell asleep at the desk too wrapped up in her books. She casually brushed stray strands of hair away from his face, her lips touching the edge of his lips.

  
He hugged her to himself, waking her up after a nightmare, and kissed her forehead.

  
He loved stealing kisses from her lips, he finally had the right to do so.

  
Therefore, hearing his wife's ultimatum, Snape just grinned and opened his arms to her.


	21. Peony

Snape took the first sip of coffee and winced, burning his tongue. Burnt scrambled eggs, overly hot coffee (in Snape's honest opinion, this elixir of the gods was too unfair to him this morning) and the general decadent atmosphere of Monday did not add to his mood.

  
Hermione overslept as expected. She jumped to her feet with a scream of panic, frightening Crookshanks, and alarming Snape, who had already been preparing an ointment for burns at Poppy's personal request for about an hour. After that slight hysterics on her part, she slipped on her jeans that were lying on the floor and bumped her forehead on the edge of the nightstand.

  
Snape gently stirred the bubbling greenish mass counterclockwise, turned down the fire under the cauldron, put the stirrer aside, sighed, and went into the living room currently occupied by Hermione. He never found the right moment to offer her to move, finally, to their married bedroom. Deep down, Severus was still convinced that the time was not right and that if he closed his eyes, his wife would immediately disappear without explanation.

  
Morning twilight and tightly closed curtains did not add light to the darkened room. Hermione was sitting on the floor and rubbing the lump on her forehead with a whiny expression.

  
“Severus, this is a disaster,” she moaned as she saw her husband’s broad figure block the pale nightlight.

  
“I don't see any disasters here,” Snape grumbled, walking into the room and squatting in front of his wife. Gently taking her chin, he turned her head towards the light, trying to consider the extent of the tragedy. Hermione fumbled for her wand and called out _Lumos_ , too bright in the early morning crown. Snape winced.

  
"Wouldn't it be easier to open the curtains instead of casting spells?" he muttered, thumbing his thumb around the bruise. Hermione squeezed her eyes against the light.

  
"I hate getting up early! I have my Artifactory exam today, Kingsley has agreed to review my petition for elf rights, I'm running late, and now this bruise. Can you imagine how I will look when speaking to the Minister?"

  
"You are a war heroine, Hermione, you can put on a potato sack, and the press will still catch your every word. As for Kingsley, you can always remind him that it was your best friend Potter and your husband, Severus Snape, who helped him get the necessary number of votes in the election."

  
Hermione got to her feet, still rubbing her forehead, then smiled broadly.

  
"I like your remark about being my husband, and as the best Potions Master in Britain, o husband mine, tell me, could you help me with my appearance?"

  
Snape grinned. "Minx."

  
“There’s a suspiciously many quirky Slytherins around me lately, so I’m probably learning from the best,” Hermione retorted and, winking at her husband, followed him into the kitchen.

  
Snape sat his wife on a high chair and found the right one among the many jars. He saw to her bump, simultaneously reflecting on her words.

  
Hermione was right: somehow unnoticed by him, the Slytherins completely captured her attention. She and Draco worked on the restoration of ancient volumes from the Hogwarts library and occasionally drank coffee on Sundays. The portrait of Phineas Black, whom Hermione had befriended since the time of the Horcruxhunt, occupied a place of honor in Snape's office, and she spent way too many hours questioning Phineas on the dark artifacts of the Black family. Narcissa tactfully hinted to Snape a couple of times that she would like to get to know his wife better. Finally, Snape himself had been the Head of Slytherin for over twenty years. This left its mark on many things.

  
In addition, the Slytherins and Gryffindors, whom Snape and Lupine, in their great wisdom, decided to settle together, unexpectedly teamed up, which added problems to all the Hogwarts professors. A couple of days ago, in response to Snape's frustrated Howler, came a calm response from Minerva, who was still engaged in Wizengamot affairs: _"You wanted to unite the faculties, my dear boy, and who, if not implacable enemies, can give this the best start?"_

  
Snape only let out an angry breath: the Headmistress was right. And children always remained children, enemies or not.

  
In addition, he was much more worried about the relationship with his own wife and her obsession with Sirius Black. Hermione spent every free minute, surrounded by books and trying to learn as much as possible about the magic of the Veil. She also attracted Potter to the case and from time to time bombarded him with questions about what he managed to see in the Underworld. Snape, who had the same experience, was tactfully avoided by Hermione for the time being, much to the latter's annoyance.

  
With each passing day, Severus realized with growing frustration that, like the last idiot, he was falling in love with his own wife. Hermione wasn't exactly avoiding him, she just had some things to do, some unfinished projects to finish, and endless exams to pass all the time.

  
And even Snape's insidious trick of lectures on Transfiguration, which he dumped on Hermione, contrary to his expectations, did not bring them closer. She was constantly busy. Hermione answered politely to his questions, then kissed him on the cheek, and usually darted away.

  
Monday morning and her disappearance only added to Snape's general depression.

  
And no, it wasn’t that Hermione had planned to bring the damned Sirius Black back from the other side. Of all people! Merlin the Great! Why did she have to choose him of all the fallen? His inner voice boringly continued its monologue, Snape slammed the cup on the table, abruptly pushed the chair back, and went back to making the ointment.

  
Sirius Black...

Once upon a time, at the mere mention of his name, an uncontrollable rage boiled up in Severus, once again proving that past grievances do not die. And at the same time…

  
For a long time, Snape hated Black with every fiber of his soul: he had everything that fate, life, and circumstances, for one reason or another, deprived Snape. Sirius had parents who, despite all the conflicts, were waiting for him to come back home. Whatever Black said, his bond with his parents was not limited to Breakfast Howlers. They sent him money and gifts for Christmas. They rushed in, barely learning that Sirius fell from his broomstick and broke his collarbone. And for sure, they did not care that it was Lucius Malfoy, the brightest Prefect of Slytherin, who threw him down. The Blacks have raised a scandal worthy of the front pages of The Daily Prophet, having too little to do with the image of cold aristocrats. Snape, on the other hand, always healed his bruises, abrasions, and fractures in splendid isolation. No, there was, of course, Lily, but the sunny girl from Gryffindor could hardly go to threaten Dumbledore and accuse him of lack of pedagogical training and provoking senseless bullying, as Walburga Black did. Sirius, for his part, kept throwing tantrums, unworthy of an aristocrat, to his parents and ran away to his gang, made up in his own image and likeness.

  
In addition to the big name and position in society, Black had the main thing - friends. Let the same brainless impudent people like himself, except, perhaps, Remus, who was too quiet to stop their antics, but they stood behind Sirius like a mountain. Their pranks often crossed the line between fun and cruelty. The Marauders owed their academic success rather to Lupin's mind than to their own intellect, but the professors often turned a blind eye to their tricks, while Severus, who tried to stand up for himself, got it in full. He long ago learned to put up with the injustice of life, but sometimes he wanted so much to have someone other than the-eternally-forgiving-everyone-but-Snape Lily and acquaintances from his own faculty who appreciated his potion-making skills, but not Snape himself.

  
Sirius was again inventing another funny, in his opinion, jokes, and Snape felt anger boil inside. He recalled how in childhood when his father did not yet consider him a shameful geek and did not drown his own life in a bottle, he taught him to emerge victorious from street fights, which often happened in the working districts of Manchester.

  
"Now, mi laddo. Now you will go out into the street, you will approach their chief. Without any further ado, you will punch him. And then you will hit further until he falls."

  
"He won't fall, Da'!" Seven-year-old Severus tried to argue. "He is a cut above me! And there are still his friends! They will blow me so!"

  
"Oh, they will, Sev'rus", his father continued harshly. "They will definitely blow you out. But don't pay attention to it at all. Look only at him. And hit it as hard as you can. Don't stop. Don't push, don't shout. Just hit. Not on the sides, not on the hands - in the face. Don't stop."

  
Many years after his father's rhetorics, Snape happened to apply its rules on Black, simply punching him in the eye with his fist instead of a curse released from a magic wand, and then another, and another, while his dumbfounded friends stared stupidly at this street fight. Without rules.

  
And then there were wars, losses, ridiculous deaths, which managed to force everyone to change their point of view.

  
Snape remembered shaking a dumbfounded Black and yelling in his face that Pettigrew was a traitor and that the Potters were in danger. And how a few months later, the same Black in a low voice muttered into a glass of cheap liquor found in Snape's house that Lily did not want to listen to anyone, that both she and James were too stubborn to be afraid of some kind of prophecy, and that there was no hope.

  
After that, Black was thrown into Azkaban, and Snape continued his wanderings in life on, until one terrible night Sirius saved Hermione from death.

  
Strange and unpredictable, Black died protecting Harry, and Snape lived protecting the same boy. Severus' stubbornness collapsed, some values were replaced by others, and it was Black that Snape owed everything that he had in this world now.

*****

Later in the afternoon, without waiting for Hermione to return for dinner, Snape donned his teacher's robes and angrily set off to patrol the corridors. Not that he didn't have a better job for the evening.

  
The measured sound of boots on the masonry, the sound of the wind behind the walls, the mocking comments of Peeves hovering nearby, and Snape could almost forget about the future, cease his worryings about the present, and stop remembering the past for at least a couple of hours.

  
From time to time he managed to scare the hesitating dunderheads, and they scattered about, hearing Snape's footsteps from afar. He did not want to deduct points from them and assign detentions, the only thing he wanted was to kiss his own wife and finally understand what was going on in her bushy head.

  
The Mirror of Erized migrated around the Castle, obeying neither the Headmaster's orders, nor any travel bans, nor anything else. Like a beacon in the fog, it appeared here and there, giving hope or depriving him of sleep. A couple of times Snape himself bumped into the damned artifact, but each time he passed by, not wanting to see how in deep childhood he saw Albus, Poppy, and himself in the Mirror. And even though Madame Pomfrey, nevertheless, managed to become his named mother, and Minerva instilled in him strictness and responsibility, in the absence of a father, remembering childhood dreams was still unpleasant.

  
Hermione, frozen in front of the Mirror that evening, obviously had a different opinion. Snape came up from behind and stood beside her. She fumbled reached her fingers to take him by the hand, unmistakably recognizing his approaching footsteps, and pointed to the reflections with her chin.

  
"Don't you want to take a look? I know you can."

  
Occlumency, of course, gave him the opportunity to spy on other people's dreams, but, now, did he have the right to do so? Snape raised his head, meeting the insidious magic of the Mirror, and could hardly resist a hysterical laugh: the cursed artifact in all its glory depicted himself, hugging Hermione, kissing her on the neck, caressing her breasts. She erotically hugged his thigh with her leg, and Snape blinked a couple of times, chasing away the obsession. He was definitely out of his mind if _this_ was his unfulfilled future.

  
Unable to resist temptations, he slipped into his wife's mind, and boldly met her innermost desires. The mirror showed him a sunlit glade in the Enchanted Forest, a summer evening, bluebells, Hermione and himself, lying on a checkered bedspread. Obviously a picnic. While Snape, out of the corner of his mind, tried to figure out what was so impossible in Hermione's dream, a girl of about five with a shock of curly brown hair and black eyes like his own ran up to their reflections.

  
_His wife wanted to have a child…._

  
Suppressing the pain that clenched at his heart, Severus turned Hermione away from the Mirror and pressed her back against his chest.

  
“Let's go back home, Severus, please."

  
"Let's go, darling. And if this is so important to you, I will help you get the damned Black out of the Arch."

  
Hermione's smile that lit up the gloomy room was definitely worth Snape's agony.


	22. Holly, mistletoe, and ivy

As time went by, the days passed, overtaking each other, and everything for Snape was mixed in a motley kaleidoscope of preparations for the Winter Solstice. He was engaged in endless paperwork, he worked on potions for St. Mungo and his personal projects. Snape was busy. His own unsettled personal life frustrated him.

  
Snape moved the cast-iron cauldron of elixir for the burns left by the Dark Curses with an effort and squinted at Hermione's open notebook - the one from the future which she used when working on the Potion of Pristine Memories. another task needed his attention. Snape checked the time and ran his hand over his face. He had a feeling like he was running out of time.

  
The Ministry had allocated forty days to consummate the marriage. Arithmancy treated the number forty with particular caution. forty symbolized the withering of old outlook and the determination to take the first step into the future. Snape, for his part, was absolutely ready to move on, if only...

If only his wife spent her nights at home, and not at Harry's on Grimmauld twelve, intending to finish the unfinished business at all costs before the Winter Solstice!

  
In the living room, mindful of the explosive nature of her best friend, who did not favor when he was interrupted from work on such trifles as a visit of an old friend, Narcissa made tea and laid out lemon biscuits on plates. Lemon biscuits were Snape's favorite delicacy, since childhood. Receiving his confusing message, the beaming Lady Malfoy rushed to help. She didn’t care whether her Severus was from the past, from the future, or the present: he was still her "Sweet Darling", who sometimes suffered from unnecessary worries way too much.

  
So, with the perfect timing, Narcissa knocked on the laboratory door, and, carefully looking inside, she showed Severus a plate of biscuits. As usual, that was enough to lure him out of hiding.

  
Snape turned down the flames under the cauldron, sealed the result with a protective charm, and followed the call of tea. He badly needed, if not Narcissa's help, then certainly her tacit sympathy, and, perhaps, her advice as sharp as herself.

  
Nodding in greeting to his best friend, Severus handed her a bottle of antidepressants, which she accepted with a grateful smile, and settled into the chair with a blissful sigh.

  
“Drink your tea and tell me everything,” Narcissa began bluntly, sinking elegantly onto the sofa.

  
“I thought you'd be overjoyed at the possible return of your dearest cousin to the living world,” Snape hissed, taking the first sip.

  
"You mean Sirius? Yes, I've heard a lot about your wife's intentions, and Draco recently asked about our ancestry. To be honest, I'm surprised, but nevertheless glad, you know Siri has always been my favorite cousin."

  
Snape nodded in agreement. He remembered very well how Narcissa had given Black long lectures on his misbehavior. For a while, he even listened to her.

  
“The Black family needs their Head, Severus, you know it. If we had protection and influence in the political arena, neither I nor Lucius, nor any other pureblood would let Voldemort play with our destinies. But that's not the point.” Narcissa waved her hand imperiously, interrupting Snape's slightest attempts to argue. "This is about you and Hermione, as well as the fact that your time is coming to an end. Would you like to tell me anything?"

  
Snape watched the tea leaves thoughtfully for a while, trying to predict his own future.

  
“If I needed help seducing my own wife, I would turn to Lucius,” he finally replied with a smile. Narcissa laughed. 

"Ah yes, I remember very well your trip to the "Red Lace" brothel in your senior years. Dear Lucius boasted that he would make a man of you, but in the end, you didn't even have enough money for a welcome dinner, so you quickly disappeared from there. I made Sirius, who was also a frequent guest of that respectful place, pay your debt. You still owe me for saving your impeccable reputation."

  
“You’re right as always, Narssi. The first time, everything happened so messily that we almost did not understand that we consummated our marriage," Snape admitted running his hand through the tangled hair. "As you know from my stories, we fought for more time than not. I never really managed to get to know her. Instead of asking questions, I used only reproaches and mockery when talking to Hermione, however, I am well aware of my own shortcomings."

  
“So, tell me, Severus, if Hermione annoyed you so much, why did you agree to marry her at all? I will never believe that in this way you wanted to repay her for saving your life," Narcissa asked, pouring a new portion of tea into cups. In fact, this was the question Severus had been waiting for. No one but Narcissa, and perhaps Poppy Pomfrey, had the amazing ability to sort out his own life.

"What do you know about _the Power of Mutual Suffering_?" Snape began from afar.

Narcissa put the cup down on the table and leaned forward.

  
“Besides the fact that this spell has an outrageously pretentious name? The term is widely used for the victims of the Unforgivables, specifically the Cruciatus. If people happened to be tortured under Crucio, moreover, if the curse was imposed by the same magician, they somehow become connected by one thread, by one suffering, and one shared pain."

  
Snape nodded, satisfied with her answer.

  
"And by coincidence, we were lucky enough to experience all the hatred of dear Bella. Apparently, this was a kind of trigger that made me take Hermione as my wife."

  
Narcissa thought for a moment as she tapped a fancy melody on the armrest. Snape watched his friend. They were connected by such an intricate and strong friendship that he sometimes wondered, what did he do to deserve such a faithful, intelligent, and devoted friend as Narcissa Malfoy? 

  
"Debts and vows aside, Sev, we will think about them tomorrow. You didn't tell me the main thing: how did you manage to fulfill your marital duty the first time?"

  
Snape snorted in response and, it seemed to Narcissa, blushed slightly.

  
"That was simple: we were drunk. The Winter Solstice was approaching. We quarreled, as usual, Hermione tried to persuade me to help the Longbottoms, she set herself a goal: to bring Neville's parents back to consciousness, and kept failing. You know, sometimes I think that with her hero-complex, she would fit perfectly well among the badgers of Hufflepuff. So, she kept pestering me, I refused to help her without explaining my reasons. In fact, I shared the _Power of Mutual Suffering_ with the Longbottoms too. So, if I tried to help them, the consequences of ten rounds of Cruciatus would have fallen on my shields mentally. I don't think I could have endured them, even with Occlumency. So, she grumbled at me all day, and in the evening, nevertheless, she decided to light the fireplace and arrange the ritual of burning the Yule log. I sat next to her and watched her actions detachedly. She was lonely, we both drank a lot, trying to numb the pain of our failure of a marriage. Well... Everything happened by itself."

  
"And what, praytell, prevents you from doing the same thing now? Bypassing the Longbottoms' talk and your fight?" Narcissa asked, raising an elegant eyebrow in question.

“Besides, if your wife is seriously concerned about saving each and everyone, we will simply need the help of Sirius - he is a born Legilliment. And I was friends with Alice. I don’t understand why no one has yet thought of applying a mental charm to her and Frank."

  
Snape nodded gravely: he could try to help, but he needed the assistance of a powerful Legilliments. Damn Black!

  
“Very well, Narssi, I intend to try."

  
"I wish you good luck, Sweet Darling, may you succeed!" Narcissa smiled back at him.

*****

By evening, Hermione seemed to have resolved Snape's doubts herself: she started decorating his chambers for Yule. Solstice night was approaching, the longest night of the year. In its honor, a big celebration was held, awaiting the revival of the King of the Oak, the Sun King, who gave life, who warmed the frozen earth and awakened strength in the seeds awaiting spring.

  
Bonfires were lit in the fields, and crops and trees were blessed by drinking spicy cider.

  
Children went from house to house and carried cloves and apples, which lay in baskets of evergreen branches and wheat stalks, dusted with flour.

  
Apples represented the sun, the cloves symbolized immortality, the stalks of wheat represented the harvest, and flour meant success, light, and life.

  
Holly, mistletoe, and ivy were adornments not only outside, but also inside houses, meant to invite the spirits of nature to the feast.

  
The holly was kept near the door all year round as a constant invitation of fortune.

  
As cynical as he wanted to be known, Snape secretly loved ancient rituals, a pristine connection with nature, a new hope for the future. That was why he allowed Hermione to lay apples all over the place and bake Yule log - a traditional pie with cloves and other spices, while he himself took up spicy cider. Whether planned or not, Snape was determined to make their first celebration together happy.

  
“For some reason, I'm sure,” Hermione shouted from the living room, “that this year will bring us a lot of happiness. And I won't even pay attention to your grumbling, I'm going to teach you that life is not only black and white, it has many shades."

  
"Sure, like the brown that your blouse will turn into if you don't stop grinding the spices so violently," Snape remarked, grinning to himself.

Hermione's surprised exclamation gave him a worthy response.

  
He liked her enthusiasm. No, Hermione hadn’t insisted on the tree yet, but the baubles were hanging everywhere magically attracting the glare of the flame and the light of the setting sun, giving hope for victory over the cold. Apples symbolized fertility, and the scene that Snape spied on in the Mirror of Erised, still gave him some thoughts. She wanted to have a baby. In the past, he managed to fulfill her dream. It couldn't be that this time his feelings, having passed the test of tragedy and pain, became dimmer.

  
Hermione, of course, did not hear his thoughts. She crept up from behind and hugged him around the waist, spying on the action that simmered in the pot.

  
"How delicious it smells! Mmmm! You are a real wizard."

  
"And you have an amazing ability to notice the obvious, dear," Snape replied waving the stirrer, pretending not to notice Hermione armed herself with a comb and was arranging his lank hair into a ponytail. In those minutes, even his own not too clean hair with gray strands did not bother him. She was there.

  
"Stop grumbling. This is our first holiday, let's celebrate it properly."

  
And he obeyed.

  
He was comfortable sitting on the floor by the fireplace, meditatively observing the dance of the flame, which was reflecting in the glass baubles and glasses with cider. He loved to feel the warmth of Hermione, practically snuggling into his arms. She cradled a cup of cider in her palms and in a low voice she was retelling the ancient Yule traditions, such as burning a log and scattering its ashes over the ground, people of old days believed that this action would grant a fertile year.

  
"Let's go to Black Lake, do this ritual, and on the way back visit Hagrid? I almost forgot about him these days, I feel so bad."

  
"As you wish, darling," Snape said in a husky voice, making a trail of kisses on Hermione's neck. His hands slid under her sweater, and she stifled a sigh, cheekily snuggling closer, just in a place that made his growing desire very obvious.

  
“Severus, I really want this, but for the next four days it will still be impossible,” Hermione muttered and blushed. "I'm in the middle of my cycle. I have cramps, and there is a real disaster down there."

  
Snape laughed and put both arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

  
“You are an impossible woman, Hermione."

  
“I'm glad to be with you, really, I want you, Severus,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck, just next to the oversensitive snakebite scars. "We should hurry, December is coming to an end."

  
Indeed: what were four more days if she really wanted him?


	23. Goldenrod Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goldenrod means stubbornness.

Snape, lounging on the couch with his hands behind his head, watched with interest as Hermione dashed through the rooms. They had fallen asleep by the fireplace last night, chilled to the bone by midnight, and now, thanks to that activity, he had a terrible backache. they never managed to find their bedroom, they were too drank and too lazy to care. So, they crawled to the couch instead and fell asleep, finding warmth in each other's arms. Not that Severus was complaining, he even started to get used to her mane of brown hair, which found its way into his mouth at every opportunity.

  
In the morning, Hermione occupied the shower. From time to time, her enthusiastic singing interrupted with hysterical shrieks, when the hot water suddenly changed to icy water, could be heard. Snape made a mental note to check the pipes. Better yet, of course, would be to find him and Hermione a suitable home in Hogsmeade. Winter holidays were approaching, and Severus did not want to spend them at Hogwarts.

  
Reality caught up with him, and with the inevitability of that icy water from Hermione's shower, fell on his head. Snape was one step away from making his dream come true and he was terrified of the consequences.

  
He wanted to take Hermione into his arms, hug her and never let her go. He wanted to protect her from troubles, but his wife's amazing ability to get involved in fantastic scrapes sarcastically insisted that he would not manage to hide Hermione from the whole world.

  
Reluctantly getting up from the sofa and getting rid of the morning chaos in the room, Snape went to the second bathroom, habitually marveling at the variety of jars and bottles lined up on the shelves. Severus Snape was a family man. He snorted, showing an obscene gesture to the mirror that cracked something sarcastic to him, and went about his usual routine.

  
He wanted to— Snape dropped his toothbrush, startled by the sudden guess, and shook his head: he wanted to make his own wife happy. He remembered the words of Narcissa that he, too, was a living person, who was no stranger to ordinary mundane dreams about the warmth of the hearth, about the smile of a beautiful woman, and about quiet family happiness.

  
However, a hothead named Hermione Granger, sorry, Hermione Snape, was not going to try on the role of an exemplary wife and keep the warmth of the hearth every day. Well, Severus knew what he was doing by marrying her.

  
"Tell me about your obsession with saving the world, Hermione," Snape asked after half an hour when they settled in the kitchen and started making breakfast. He enjoyed guiding her steps by teaching her the art of cooking. If his wife, in the end, turned out to be a good potion maker, and with proper training, she would compete with many employees of the Ministry, then in the kitchen Hermione turned into a walking disaster. Snape chuckled to himself as he explained simple recipes to her.

  
“Here, tilt the bowl toward you and gently whisk the eggs while I am slicing the ham. Hey, no magic!"

  
"Then what's the point of being a witch?" Hermione grumbled, blowing stray curls off her forehead.

  
“The point is that you seem to have forgotten the basic tenet of all my lectures, Madame Snape."

  
“No foolish wand-waving near the cauldrons,” she rattled clearly, beaming in response to his appeal.

  
_How little it takes to make her happy_ , Snape thought, slicing ham and chopping tomatoes for a traditional English breakfast. After the war, he set out to keep an eye on his own regime, much to the satisfaction of Poppy, who reprimanded Severus more than once for operating solely on coffee and rage.

  
"And yet, you did not answer my question."

  
"You are saying that I have a hero complex?" Hermione shrugged, serving the eggs to him and leaning over to the toaster. "You will be right if you think so, I really do not sit still."

  
"It's one thing - your desire for knowledge," - ignoring her remark, continued Snape, not looking up from the frying pan, on which the eggs were whitening, "quite another thing is an endless series of troubles that follow you."

  
“Severus, I want and will help as many people as possible, what's wrong with that desire?"

  
"Let's say you're right. But you grab on to a huge number of projects and do not complete any of them. If this isn't Black's salvation, then it's researching mental magic for the Longbottoms. If you are not busy fighting for house-elf rights, you are constantly proving to Kingsley the importance of reform and working with the Muggle Ministry. And when you have those rare moments when you can rest, you bombard Bill Weasley with letters, coaxing him to lecture you on dark artifacts. What else? Ah yes, you meet with Draco to rid him of the remnants of the Mark."

  
Hermione flushed indignantly and banged the metal bowl of salad on the countertop.

  
“Severus, I don’t need psychotherapy, and forgive me, that’s what you’re doing right now. Can we just have breakfast?"

  
Snape lowered the heat under the skillet, added aromatic herbs to the dish, and turned to his wife.

  
"No. Until you hear the grain of rationality in my speeches, I do not intend to watch you spend your potential for something incomprehensible."

  
“Sure, Professor Snape! Are you not caring for orphans, perfecting the Wolfsbane, or compiling antidepressants for Narcissa Malfoy? Didn't you make the Unbreakable Vow to save Draco's life?"

  
"Do not dare! Don't bring Malfoys in here, you know nothing about that!"

  
“On the contrary, Severus, I understand everything very well! You helped the Malfoys because there was no one else. Who else will help Neville and his parents? Who is able to pull Sirius out of the Arch? Call me an arrogant swot, but Celtic magic is unlikely to be understood by anyone other than me, you, and Professor Flitwick!" Hermione snapped, angrily arranging the plates. Severus gazed at her unyieldingly from the stove.

  
“You're taking on too much, Hermione."

  
"Not at all. Remember when we hunted the Horcruxes in that damned forest in the middle of winter what you told me?"

  
Severus considered her words. Even with the active participation of Minerva and the help of the Malfoys, the children had a hard time. He often visited them then, having found out their whereabouts with the help of a portrait of Phineas Black. Severus brought them food, or tea in a thermos and sat by the fire, giving them lectures and telling all sorts of stories.

  
“I told you that someone has to take the first step, otherwise you may never find a way out of the darkness,” Snape quoted his own words.

  
“And I followed your instructions, don't you understand, Severus? I considered myself so helpless, so useless! What could I do? I was a seventeen-year-old girl who dreamed herself a hero!"

  
“If it weren't for you and your efforts to educate Potter and his sidekick, Hermione, we would have lost the war."

  
"Do you really think so?" Hermione asked, looking up at Snape with a happy smile.

  
"Of course! You are completely unaware of your own worth. If you hadn’t constantly nudged Potter and Weasley with lectures about the need to do homework, if you did not tutor them and did not give them colorful planners for each holiday, the only spell that our Wonder-Boy-Who-Survived-Twice would have learned would have been _Vingardium Leviosa_! _"It's Leviooosa, not Leviosaa, Ron,"_ Snape mimicked, brushing the egg husks off Hermione's cheek. She laughed.

  
"How do you know about this?"

  
"You have no idea what gossip went around the teacher's room during your studies. And from my secret corner, everything was perfectly seen and audible. But, jokes aside, Hermione. Sooner or later you will have to face your own fears, and the later you do this, the more painful the conclusions will be."

  
"What do you mean?"

  
"My dear, you are trying to fill the void inside your heart. You know I could have stopped giving a damn about Dumbledore's orders or Voldemort's manipulations, and I could have left the country. I could have gone to Cuba and open a Tarot club there, stop laughing, I would have made a pretty good Sybil Trelawney. Perhaps, I could have taken Lucius with me and could have hidden in France, preferably in the distilleries of Provence, and until Narssi and her rage would have found find us, we would have had a good time. However, I also tried to prove to myself that without me everything would collapse here, that life would stop and the Earth would go out of orbit. I tried to justify my endless failures by owning various debts and taking vows."

  
“But the Malfoys are your family, you said that yourself… And Professor McGonagall couldn't have done it without you, and neither could have we in that forest,” Hermione murmured, pursing her lip: Severus's words hit the target.

  
"Undoubtedly, each of us has friends, even I am no exception, I would never refuse the Malfoys, but it would have been possible, for example, not to engage in the reorganization of Hogwarts, guardianship of orphans, and so on, but I decided that it was my duty to help them, as you did. I always wanted to prove to everyone that I can do more, and also, probably, I wished to somehow justify my reputation of the Bat of the Dungeons. I said don’t laugh, the gossip in the staff room did the trick."

  
Severus took a step towards Hermione and lifted her chin with his forefinger.

  
“I’m not rushing you, Hermione, but sooner or later you will have to realize the fact that your parents can get back their lost memories. And take a step in this direction."

  
"They are going to hate me..." Hermione whispered, trying to turn away, but Severus's hands held her in place.

  
“Look at me: you don’t have to do this alone, after all, know, if not us then who can help your parents?"

  
“Gryffindor Swot and Dungeon Bat, aren't we a good couple?” Hermione shook her head, not noticing that Severus was slowly wiping her tears away.

  
“Take Gryffindor’s stubbornness and Slytherin’s cunningness and you’ll have allies that make Voldemort himself a snotty first year by comparison. Perhaps that's why Dumbledore tried so hard to make our two houses split."

  
Hermione snorted and wiped her nose with her sleeve, earning a reprimand from Severus.

"Severus? "she asked after a few minutes.

"Yes?"

“The Malfoys have sent us an invitation to the Christmas ball, and this is a disaster."

"Why? If you don't want to go, I'll write Narcissa a polite refusal.”Severus frowned. 

"No, it's not about Bellatrix and my nightmarish memories, the ball will be at the Summer Residence, but..."

"What is it then?"

"I can not dance!" Hermione muttered ruefully.

"Ah, that! Fear not, my dear. Who do you think coached the junior Slytherins before the Triwizard Tournament?"

Hermione gasped in surprise. Severus smiled.

"Cunning Slytherins, I told you."  



	24. Geranium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geranium means recklessness

With a flick of his pen, Severus crossed out a few paragraphs in the final essay of his hapless seventh-year students, shook his head, took a sip of the cold tea, and put aside the pile of parchments in annoyance. He was trying to keep himself busy in order to shut his tormented mind down. He was trying in vain.

  
Since last night, he had been tormented by migraines. The would-be graduates who had hosted a creepy secret party the day before on the ruins of Gryffindor Tower were now diligently sprinkling essays on the thirteen properties of Dragon's blood, and Snape did not care that the notorious liquid had only twelve known magic properties. His unfortunate students, when driven to despair, could very well have invented the fourth Unforgivable, he had no doubt about their abilities.

  
Peeves hovered over Snape's right shoulder, eager for praise for uncovering the seventh year conspiracy at midnight yesterday.

  
"What do you want?" Snape muttered.

  
"Give me a month of unpunished pranks, Headmaster."

  
"Keep dreaming! I've renovated Hogwarts once, I don't want to renovate it once more after your mischief."

  
“Two weeks, or Peeves will tell Minerva who the Castle has chosen to be its true Headmaster."

  
"A week." Snape held up a finger in warning. "And not a day more. Minerva is already well aware of the Castle's decision, which surprised me too."

  
"Who, who taught you everything, Batty?"

  
"Get lost. I gave you a week. Oh, one more thing, don't you dare prank my wife again!" Snape snapped at Peeves, overwhelmed by his sudden, happy squeal.

  
"She's not your wife yet! Yiiihaaaa!"

  
The poltergeist disappeared from his view. Snape squeezed the bridge of his nose: just like that, even this victim of exorcism dared to accuse him of neglect of his marital duties.

  
Of course, he lied to Narcissa when he shared the story of his intimate life. There were some things in Snape's life that he was ashamed to admit, even to himself. One of these things was his impenetrable stubbornness and self-righteousness.

  
That time in the past, as he had already said to Narcissa, Hermione was seriously concerned about the return to the normal life of Neville's parents, and neither the protests nor the convictions of Severus stopped her. He could lecture her of the importance of their conjugal duties as much as he wanted, telling her that the forty days agreed by the Ministry were coming to an end. This meant if they did not take vows to each other, she could as well seek refuge in Australia. 

  
Hermione, of course, refused to listen to Snape and left the house, slamming the door goodbye.

  
"Good kids don't make revolutions, Severus," she repeated the line so often that Snape began feeling nauseous at the very mention of that phrase.

  
All they did was bombard each other with reproaches. Everyone stood their ground. Snape recalled the accusing Hermione poking her finger at him as he swallowed the third headache pill. Muggle pill, by the way.

  
“I’ll never believe you can’t brew yourself a potion from the pale blue mistletoe seed extract!”

  
"I can, of course, but this plant, as far as I know, grows in the Forbidden Forest, in a clearing, which leads to the settlement of Centaurs, and I have a strained relationship with them."

  
Hermione snorted.

  
"You could just ask them, you know."

  
"Could I? I could have asked them like you asked the Centaurus to kill Umbridge. Are you aware of the fact that Ministerial campaigners threatened to burn down the entire forest in order to find at least her corpse. Your prank, you and your one-celled friends, nearly cost the Centaurs their very existence!"

  
“You are overdramatizing, Severus,” Hermione replied adamantly and went off to make the world a better place and to fight for justice that only she understood.

  
Severus did not approve of her revolutionary activities, but she did not listen to him. Who was he to her? Not even a husband. The first couple of years after the war, Hermione honestly tried to put together a career in the Ministry, grabbing from one project, then another. If she did not defend the rights of house-elves, then she sought to find justice and the free provision of the Wolfsbane for werewolves. After another failure, Hermione decided to become the Unspeakable but failed at the selection stage, then, for some time she worked as Kingsley's personal secretary, personally controlling the press and trying to call Rita Skitter to order.

  
Naive idealism behind which Hermione hid her pain and longing for her parents, had never subsided. Her endless search for herself led Hermione first to the Ministry, then to Hogwarts, and ultimately forced her to change the world for the better, even at the cost of her own health.

  
Her obsession with saving the Longbottoms hadn't done much good either. Snape was busy that evening, as usual, putting together a curriculum for the week. There was silence in the rooms, somewhere in the corner a cauldron was bubbling, parchment rustled, a pen creaked. Snape gritted his teeth and tried not to think about the fact that his almost-wife was now suffering from the effects of the Cruciatus outside the bedroom door.

  
As he suspected, the experiment to apply Legillimency to the Longbottoms was unsuccessful. Yes, during her time in the Ministry and preparing for exams for the Unspeakable position, Hermione became skilled in mental magic, having learned to put up good shields and control the reading of emotions and images. What she did not suspect was the notorious power of mutual suffering. Before this incident, Snape did not know about that particular spell that bound them together either.

  
That day did not bode well. Snape was waiting for his wife for dinner to discuss with her their marriage vows, which he had found in ancient books the day before. He did not have high hopes that she would be able to at least temporarily make the Longbottoms respond to the healers: the traumas they inflicted were too severe. Therefore, when Hermione stumbled through the fireplace onto the carpet and immediately waddled into the bedroom, he did not notice anything suspicious. Not for the first time, serving in the Ministry had worn her out and brought her insomnia. Snape sincerely didn’t know why she kept tormenting herself with the job like that.

  
What made him wary were the choked sobs that came from the bedroom forty minutes later.

  
Rushing into the bedroom, Snape found his wife huddled on the bed, shivering with cold and convulsions. She sobbed and tried to overcome the shiver that beat her. Snape knew the Cruciatus and its aftershocks very well.

  
"Did you get what you wanted?" He snapped not too kindly. "We'll have to endure until morning, I have no ready-made antidote, or will have to go to St. Mungo's."

  
"Go away, Severus," Hermione rattled her teeth. "I'll help Neville's parents no matter the cost!"

  
"Merlin, they do not need your help, you stupid witch! Answer me where would they return to: to a world that does not know them, to a son who grew up without them, to a life that doesn't need them! As your husband, I forbid you to meddle with them, it's too dangerous!"

  
"Don't you dare yell at me! I'm not your wife yet."

  
Hermione's last words thundered into the silence of the room. Severus turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door with extreme caution. It would be better if he slammed it so that plaster fell from the ceiling.

  
Pouring whiskey into the glass, he began to drown the raging anger in his soul in alcohol. Whenever he happened to be a victim of Crucio and, of course, there was no pain reliever at hand, he went to the Red Lace, and Daisy was there. It was an excellent remedy for suffering, and for seizures, and for memories: sex, devoid of emotions and desires, when consciousness was switched off, when the phrase “Take her, take her, take her” just flashed through his brain. When it did not matter how and with whom, when it was only important to forget everything and himself. Daisy was the main madam in the brothel and in her own way she felt sorry for the thin boy with matted black hair who often came to visit her. He did not want to get attached to her, did not even want to talk, but she endeared him to herself.

  
"I wanted to become a Healer a long time ago, you know? Therefore, I will know the Unforgivable when I see it. And I see Crucio on you too often. What are you being punished for?"

  
“I am not good enough for them, it seems,” Severus muttered, tired of the endless squabbles, “not smart enough, not rich enough, not talented enough, and generally ill-mannered blockhead. They punish me for being too strange for them, I don't know what to do."

  
In that strange time, when Voldemort was trying to take over the masses, Severus was not afraid to talk openly about him.

  
“Learn, Sweet Darling,” Daisy cooed softly, brushing his hair from his face. “Study as hard as you can, and whatever you can. There you have, if not friends, then acquaintances, former fellows in the faculty, talk to them, promise to tell them about potions, ask them for help."

  
Daisy kept talking and talking, and Severus stared at her in fascination: _"Sweet Darling."_ He must find Narcissa and beg her for help. He will start with good manners and good demeanor, and perhaps then the Death Eaters will cease to despise him.

  
He learned as much as he could. He gained his place among the Death Eaters. Snape was grateful to another woman with a flower name who had once given him unexpected advice. He also learned clearly during their encounters with Daisy that the Cruciatus was easily cured with the help of banal sex.

  
Long after midnight, just as Severus had almost finished his firewhiskey bottle and was considering collapsing on his face on the sofa and forgetting himself until morning, the door swung open and a disheveled Hermione appeared on the threshold. Eyes red from fatigue and tears, hair standing on end, blue lips - there was little that could seem attractive in her, especially a nightgown with geranium flowers, symbolizing recklessness in floristry. She reached the chair and collapsed onto Severus.

  
"I am your wife. Help me."

  
He had only to get up and catch her...

****

Snape did not remember exactly what they had vowed to each other that night. It was the night filled with despair, pain, and whiskey, but in the morning a parchment appeared on Kingsley's table, attesting to their marriage.

  
So they became husband and wife.

  
Things were supposed to be different now. No nonsense, naivety, and reproaches. But Hermione disappeared with Potter on Grimmauld, trying to find the Black family heirlooms that were dear to Sirius, and Snape was sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, staring into the fireplace and suffering from migraines.

  
He should have walked around the Forbidden Forest long ago and begged the Centaurs for mistletoe. He should have brewed the potions and calmed down, but headaches were a kind of constancy in the continuous chaos of Snape's life, so he hesitated. Marriage vows, however, taken from an ancient ritual, rested on his desk. As a cursory inspection of her own library showed, Hermione was also interested in Celtic magic. He'd have to discuss everything with her tonight.

  
In the end, they had just only two days left to truly become a husband and wife.


	25. Shamrock, lavender and magnolia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamrock, lavender and magnolia are Celtic wedding flowers.

Hermione stirred her cappuccino and looked defiantly at Draco, who once again made an indecent joke about her appearance. She had long forgiven him for his outbursts of arrogance: no matter how Malfoy tried to seem a pompous aristocrat, Hermione, who had gone through the restoration of Hogwarts side by side with him, knew him from a completely different side now. That was, probably, why she was now sitting with him in the holy of holies - the School's library, drinking her not very tasty coffee from the nearest eatery and sharing intimate things. Ron would have just shrugged his shoulders at her excessive preoccupation with all sorts of nonsense, Harry would have tried to support her in every possible way, but only one person knew the character of Severus Snape well enough to give advice, and that person was his godson Draco.

  
“ _Papa_ has a friend at the Ministry, and he hasn’t notified us of your marriage consummation yet, Pumpkin,” Draco said bluntly, resting his chin on his fist. Hermione glared at her friend but continued to stubbornly sip on her cold drink.

  
"It's complicated."

  
“Come on, what could be so complicated there?” Malfoy grinned white-toothed and wiggled his brows.

  
"For you maybe not, I've heard a lot about your adventures in the "Red Lace". This is not the point."

  
"What is the point, then? Come on, tell me, since you dragged me into the library at the height of the working day, instead of making the heirs with my godfather."

  
“I don’t know Draco, sometimes I think I’m afraid of him,” Hermione muttered, hiding her flaming cheeks in her palms. She went as far as discussing her love life with Malfoy!

  
“Oh, so it's okay, your husband is Severus Snape, after all, only mum is not afraid of him."

  
"And you?"

  
"I'm afraid," Malfoy admitted honestly. "But you are tormented by something else here: you are still looking for approval from the world, from your friends and, among other things, from my godfather. You can punch me in the nose, I know you have a great right hook, but I will tell you this, and then you can be offended or draw conclusions. Don't expect praise from him, you won't get it, and the world doesn't need your heroism. You know that. I'm sure that if you go to Uncle Severus, don't laugh, I know him from birth, he even changed my diapers once, and just talk to him, you both will have a fight at the end, because both of you are stubborn and confident to no end."

  
“I’m trying to understand him, Draco, and I can’t. Severus is so hard to figure out."

  
"This is what the best witch who passed all her NEWSTs with the highest score tells me! Stop it, Pumpkin, you even overtook me!"

  
"It's not about exams, Draco! He was always there and always remained out of reach. Severus helped us during this crazy hunt, he brought us food and potions, he taught us what to do next and how not to go crazy. He even gave me books, can you imagine?"

  
Draco laughed.

  
"Who would have thought: the heart of the inaccessible Hermione Granger can be conquered by a mere book!"

  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione continued. “I don’t know, he was always the unattainable and terribly strict Professor Snape, and just this past month, he suddenly became my husband! I had not imagined such a future at all. I hoped to finish my studies, pass the NEWTs, and change the world for the better in the end. And what do I have after the fact? The Marriage Law I didn't ask for, forty days to consummate my marriage, vows to be made, the husband I don't know at all, and I'm twenty-two years old, Draco!"

  
“If that’s any consolation, Granger, then I’m twenty-two, as well,” Draco snorted.

  
“It’s true, but someone has been guiding you all your life, while I was thrown under a barrage of the Unforgivables and forced to survive!"

  
"Now you, of course, will not take advice from anyone?"

  
"No one ever gave me advice, except for Professor McGonagall and Severus, and even then, times were worse than ever,'' Hermione sighed and drained her glass of cold coffee in one gulp, winced and motioned her wrist to send a request for a cup of hot tea to the nearest fireplace.

  
"Do not expect advice from him, Hermy, this is the godfather. Yes, he gave me the Young Potions Master's Kit, he was the first to buy me a racing broom and got a great thrashing from _Mama_ afterward, but he never lectured me, allowing me to find a solution on my own. He's a teacher, whether you like it or not, so he won't run after you with a bib and a chamber pot and force you to blow your nose when you don't want to. He sees your potential that's why he is firmly convinced that you will do a great job yourself. You're not a home-bored freshman who accidentally lost her stuffed dragon at midnight. Do you really need his help that much?"

  
Irritated, Hermione pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pinned her hair with her wand.

  
“I would not forgive him if he suddenly decided to lecture me, Draco, you’re right about that. But maybe I just want his support?"

  
"You have every right to want it from him, he is your husband. And then, the godfather always wiped my nose and gave me tea if I happened to lose my family ring or fail an essay on Transfiguration. He even tried to tutor me until he confessed that Transfiguration had always been his walking curse."

  
“You don't have a very healthy relationship with your own nose, Malfoy."

  
"Of course Hermy, especially after you broke it for me," Draco smiled cheekily. "Aren't you afraid that you will be evicted from Britain?"

  
“Let them try to get between Professor Snape and his wife first,” Severus, who came out of nowhere, said haughtily, and gallantly offered his hand to Hermione. “Now, if you don’t mind, I intend to kidnap the aforementioned spouse until the evening."

  
"Good luck, Hermy," Malfoy whispered furtively. At the very exit, Hermione turned around, pointing her wand at her friend.

  
"Malfoy, call me Hermy again ..."

  
“I know you’ll break my nose, but still, good luck!"

  
And neither of them noticed how Severus smirked in satisfaction. Draco pulled up a cup of tea with honey that was only a minute late and blissfully closed his eyes - he loved Granger when she never had time to finish her tea.

****

The sheepskin was spread in front of the fireplace in the living room, white candles stood in four corners, incense burned: cedar, sage, and sandalwood. In the center stood a bowl of water, a dish of salt, a brass altar bell, a staff, a goblet of rose oil, a quartz crystal, and two white cords. Not far from them lay the rings tied with ribbon. Claddagh rings, decorated with the Celtic script and a traditional heart in open palms, they were a symbol of friendship, love, and freedom. Hermione smiled: simultaneously, she and Severus had chosen the same ritual to consummate the marriage.

  
Snape led her to the center of the room and put his arms around her shoulders.

  
"We have no more time to hesitate, Hermione, we either hold the ceremony today or tomorrow I will have a long fight with the Minister, Minerva and Merlin knows who else."

  
Hermione lowered her eyes.

  
“Sorry, I should have thought about this earlier."

  
"I understand how hard it is for you, and Circe sees, least of all I want to rush you, but we are bound by circumstances against which we can do nothing. Unless, of course, you changed your mind about becoming Madame Snape?"

  
Hermione clutched at his coat.

  
"You wish!"

  
“That's good,” Snape smiled and, concentrating, lit the candles and took one of them in his hands. Hermione followed suit. Snape outlined a flickering circle and stood in the center, facing his wife, he raised his hands to the sky, making the candle float in the air:

  
“In this sacred circle of light, we are gathered in perfect love and perfect faith. Oh, Lady of divine love, I ask you to bless us, our love and marriage, as long as we live loving each other. Grant us a healthy life filled with joy, love, stability, and abundance."

  
Hermione ordered the bowl of salt to soar into a circle and placed her palms on it.

  
"Grant us a blessing with the ancient and mysterious Elements of the earth!"

  
Severus rang the altar bell and turned to face east.

  
"Grant us a blessing with the ancient and mysterious Air elements!"

  
Hermione and Severus faced south, took the lighted white candles in their right hands, and held out the wand over them with their left hands.

  
"Grant us a blessing with the ancient and mysterious Elements of fire!"

  
Then, by the will of magic, they were sprinkled with water, calling the last element into the circle. They brought their palms together and recited:

  
"Grant us a blessing with the ancient and mysterious Elements of water!"

  
Candles flashed brightly, water rumbled, the wind carried the smell of earth after rain and incense - magic took over the ritual. They tied white cords around their wrists, urging them to continue their oath. With his free hand, Severus put the ring on Hermione's finger and spoke.

  
"Seed and root, stem and ovary, leaf, flower and fruit, my life, my magic and my love for you; I, Severus Tobias Snape, make a sacred marriage with you Hermione Hermione. I give you my heart, my body, my life, my magic, and my spirit. I will be to you like the sun to the earth, like the starry sky to the moon. I will be the Priest at your altar, the husband in your house, and the God for the Goddess in you."

  
And the cord on his wrist glowed with a silvery light.

  
Hermione, with trembling hands, managed to put a wedding ring on his finger and in a broken voice began to say her oath:

  
"Seed and root, stem and ovary, leaf, flower and fruit, my life, magic and my love for you; I, Hermione Jean Granger, make with you, Severus Tobias Snape, a sacred marriage. I give you my heart, my body, my magic, my life, and my spirit. I will be to you like the earth to the sun, like the moon to the starry sky. I will be a Priestess at your altar, a wife in your house, and a Goddess for God in you."

  
And the cord on her wrist gleamed with a golden light, taking her oath.

  
They became husband and wife.

****

And then Hermione froze in bewilderment in front of Severus as the magic of the ritual freed her from her clothes, but never managed to calm her excitement. She looked around nervously, so beautiful and naive, so dear, his wife... Severus smiled encouragingly, ran the back of his hand over her cheek, Hermione closed her eyes, and he saw her eyelashes trembling with excitement.

  
Severus pressed his lips to hers, ran his fingers through her long hair, she sighed happily, threw her head back as he trailed a path of kisses on her neck, then went down to her chest, her stomach, then knelt down. Severus kissed the bone on her hip, his tongue teased her navel. He smiled in satisfaction when he felt her palms on his shoulders, when felt her tremble.

  
"Let's go to... Take me to the bedroom,” Hermione whispered through a moan.

  
He got up from his knees, left a tender kiss on her lips, and then picked her up in his arms.

  
“Severus..."

  
"Hush, all is well."

  
The bedroom greeted them with the soft light of the same snow-white candles and the scent of incense. He gently lowered her onto the bed, bent down, looked into her eyes, admired the shimmer of her skin in the dim light.

  
"How beautiful you are, love..."

  
Their palms touched, her lips slid down his cheek, playfully kissed his earlobe, froze on the scars on his neck. Two years. Unthinkable! For two years she lived in his memory and was unbearably distant. It seemed like Hermione was always in Severus's heart, from which she was so rudely ripped out, hoping that he would be able to forget, but the bleeding wound always stayed unhealed, reminding him of his loss. He remembered her eyes, her touch, her frantic whisper when she leaned to him, almost losing consciousness, and again she escaped his caresses. Her tears, her joys.

  
She seemed to be teaching him everything again, patiently walking through step by step, trying to understand him, to accept him once again. She, a strong woman, suddenly became fragile and defenseless in his arms, and he broke down. Severus had endured too long, existed too long without her. He could not betray her, although he had already betrayed her in the past.

  
They waited and hoped, their time had come today. She gleefully opened her arms as if inviting him to share this sweet dance of love and passion and Severus followed.

  
His palms trembling with excitement, he caressed her firm breasts, whispering something comforting in her ear.

  
They plunged into the soft darkness of the bedroom, into an enveloping silence, interrupted only by their uneven breathing. He surrendered to the power of her body and bewitching eyes, he completely belonged to her. Severus knew that with other women this magic was lost, he also knew that Hermione felt the same way. She bit her lip, stifling a moan that was breaking out, and threw her head back again.

  
"Let go, Hermione."

  
The moment their palms and bodies intertwined, a groan escaped her lips to blend with his own. It was a hymn to their newborn love, their souls standing in the way of healing.

  
Severus slowed down. He knew how to please her, and the supplication in her gaze confirmed his guesses. He knew every mole, every scar on her body, he knew her like he did not know any other woman. Hermione was his only love, a part of his heart, which he lost so stupidly. Hermione again eluded him, only to grab his shoulder convulsively a second later to whisper in a choking voice:

  
“Don't leave me, Severus."

  
"I am with you, dear heart, always."

  
And a few hours later, a parchment tied with a ribbon appeared on the table of an employee of the Ministry, indicating that Hermione and Severus Snape had become a husband and wife in the face of law and magic.

  
“Finally,” the clerk breathed in satisfaction and sent a Patronus with good news to his friend Lucius Malfoy.


	26. Privet

Severus narrowed his eyes at the ruffled owl that had boldly landed at the very center of his theses on the laws of Arithmancy. The owl gave him an equally eloquent look: after all, all the creatures, one way or another connected with the Malfoy family, had a common trait - exorbitant ambition and self-confidence.

  
The letter was written on cream-colored parchment with an official seal. Severus broke the sealing wax and began to read. Thirty seconds later, he snorted, looked into the pouch attached to the owl's other leg, sorted through the miniature bottles, and nodded contentedly: of course, his old friend Lucius was a pompous peacock, for the most part. Nevertheless, no matter how Lucius appreciated his friend, he did not miss the opportunity to make fun of him if there was a suitable opportunity...

  
_“Oh-la-la, cher ami, what stamina! I admire you, as always,” read Lucius's message, as he reinforced his admiration to Snape with a potion to increase potency._

  
Snape waved his hand at the owl so she wouldn't wait for an answer and gave the bottle a pejorative look. However, there were some useful items among Malfoy's gifts: for example, fortifying tincture and Felix Felicis. After some thought, Snape hid all three "goodies" in the top drawer of his desk. Raising his head, he bumped his nose against the mustachioed muzzle of Narcissa's Patronus: the ermine sat on its hind legs and curiously pricked up its ears, looking at Severus.

  
_“I believe you will find a fitting use for Lucius's gifts. Otherwise, congratulations. I am proud of your stamina."_

  
Severus squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers: no, they must have conspired. What in Merlin's name could be so concerning about his intimate life? After all, he was a grown-up wizard and did not need advice. Plus, looking at the contented face of Hermione, peacefully sniffling in their wedding bed, one could conclude that she, too, was more than satisfied with everything that occurred between them the night before.

  
As if in response to his thoughts, a silver badger jumped on the table and screamed in Poppy Pomfrey's voice:

  
_“Son, how are you? Do you need any help? I'll send a vitamin potion. Have you had your lunch yet? I’ll send house-elves, just tell me. "_

  
Snape exhaled noisily and waved his wand, the raven flying out of it stared at him expectantly. In his soul, disappointment echoed with a strange bitterness. No, he, of course, did not hope for matching Patronuses, all the more so soon. Besides, meeting with the male partner of Hermione's otter did not at all tempt him at all, but, secretly Severus hoped for his raven to change once he had become intimate with his wife.

  
_"Everything is fine. I assure you, both I and my wife are fine. The ritual went well. And stop fussing, Mom, really. I shall not refuse food, however."_

  
The raven flew away, Severus dropped his head in his hands: what a shame. Everyone was overly concerned about his personal life. However, their attempts were not unreasonable.

  
Rituals, whether designed to invoke power, bestow blessings, curse, heal, or consummate a marriage, have long been considered magic of the highest order, therefore, regrettably, they required only pureblooded wizards for their incarnation. It was no matter that blood prejudices were actively eradicated, Voldemort was right about something: pure magic craved pure power. And Snape, even with all his skills, was a half-blood, so it was a high possibility, that he might not easily cope with the price demanded by the ritual.

  
That was why both Poppy and the Malfoys were giving him every support now.

  
If only they knew that the cunning dean of Slytherin had his reasons when giving them his Unbreakable Vows. Snape neatly folded the parchments scattered all over the desk in a neat pile and tucked them into the top drawer.

  
One could argue as much as one wanted that the Malfoys were almost like a family to him, that he considered Poppy his mother, that he would have done everything in his power to save them, but no one had canceled his own benefit in critical situations. Mother's magic, imported on him by his Vow to Lily, brought into his life by the willingness of Poppy to literally adopt him, saved not only Wonder Boy-Who-Lived-To-Mole-Snape's life, but it was also able to save him as well.

  
Yes, Severus was well aware of the ancient ritual that his wife performed somewhat rashly on the night of his near-death, but Poppy also played an important role there. He knew that there were the Celts in the family of the witch, and their skills were much higher than both magics - white and dark, higher than the purity of blood, and higher than any prejudice. That magic was ancient, and it understood the world as it was thousands and thousands of years ago. When there were laws that were understandable to everyone in the Universe: _“An eye for an eye. Blood for blood. Sacrifice for sacrifice._ " Husband for a wife. A mother for a child. It was the magic of Poppy, who considered Severus her son, the magic of Eileen, who responded from the other side, and Hermione's determination to save his life at any cost did their job then.

  
Now the Malfoys, who were once betrothed through the same ritual that Severus and Hermione decided to perform, intervened in the ritual.

  
Of course, when Severus confidently and adamantly told Narcissa that he would do everything to save his own godson, he was hardly thinking of his own benefit. However, the oath served as some help when it came to his magical reserve, the transition between worlds, and the salvation of his own wife. Severus' lack of strength was compensated by the magic of the Malfoys and the Blacks, whose lineage was much older than the family of Eileen Prince.

Salazar Slytherin taught his descendants to always hope for the worst and plan escape routes, so Snape followed the behests of his faculty patron.

  
It became clear why both Poppy and the Malfoys were so eager to congratulate him on his successful marriage, and Severus was not going to reveal his secrets.

  
In the end, everything turned out as he had planned, and judging by the rumble and cheerful squeals that were now coming from his living room, Hermione was also doing well. Draco and Lavender dropped by and were making some wild races in his living-room now. Severus frowned: ah yes, his godson seemed to have promised to teach Hermione how to dance, only their stomping didn't sound like a waltz or a cotillion.

  
Severus decided to give the children time to indulge in, while he dipped his quill in ink and took up his long-suffering thesis.

***

Hermione slyly narrowed her eyes, made a long stick out of a wooden spatula, hung it in the air, and, arching her back, walked under it.

  
"Well? Try this, Malfoy! I bet you this limbo-dance is much harder than your: "one, two, three, one, two, three, turn", "step forward, one more step, and now back."

  
"Let it be known to you, tango is a combination of music, poetry, and original traditions! Waltz is a soul, tango is love!" Draco huffed arrogantly.

  
"But Sweety Pie, this is terribly boring," Lavender whined and also walked under the stick.

  
"Is this Australian Aboriginal dance terribly fun in your opinion?"

  
“Anyway, it’ll help smooth out the general shock of the guests at the dinner party after you and Lavender announce your engagement,” Hermione objected, lowering the stick. "Try it, you will like it."

  
Draco inspected the entire structure skeptically and, imitating his godfather, waved the flaps of his robes and walked across the room.

  
“Granger, Mom’s throwing this ball first to celebrate the return of cousin Sirius, and only then, for the sake of our engagement with Lav, which, mind you, has not yet been announced."

  
“So Sirius hasn’t come back yet,” Lavender snorted, “I don’t understand why it’s customary for you to do everything in advance."

  
"Procrastination is like death," Draco pointedly raised his finger, bumped his head at the stick, and fell down to the floor. "However, it was really fun."

  
“That’s the point, and I’m still not eager to go to this ball,” Hermione grumbled. "Dancing or not, but I'm uncomfortable in the company of pompous aristocrats, I have only recently learned to be civil with Draco."

  
“I am very grateful for such a high assessment, Granger, but you are now Madame Snape, you cannot get away from the officialdom. Besides, you are a war heroine, the Ministry will certainly crave your presence at all kinds of evenings timed to coincide with the anniversary of the death, birth, marriage, and other nonsense."

  
"Come on, I think we are not so different from each other, is it not mister Malfoy, Draco, who wipes his fingers on the tablecloth when Lady Narcissa is not looking?" Lavender chirped smiling mischievously.

  
"Love, you can't throw such news on poor Granger without warning," Draco grinned wryly. "We are no different, of course, I always liked to watch how the cousin Sirius or the godfather tactfully and elegantly infuriate any ministers or pompous scientists invited to the ball, and how they blush with anger, but according to the protocol they cannot do anything."

  
"That is why you decided to dance the lambada with Lavender and shock everyone to no end?" Hermione asked.

  
“Yes, Granger, that's the point. If the godfather saw me now, what would he say?"

  
“He would say that Narssi would have a fit, but Lucius would gladly join you,” Severus, silently standing in the doorway, commented on the action taking place in his living room. Hermione gave him a beaming smile.

  
"My father would join the "bedlam"?" Draco exclaimed in disbelief.

  
“Of course,” Snape nodded, “we didn't always follow protocol, Draco. For example, I once dreamed of becoming a hippie, listened to Led Zeppelin, and learned to play the electric guitar. Lucius used to smoke marijuana."

  
After admiring the expressions on the faces of everyone present, Severus walked into the room and handed Hermione a bouquet of privet, which in the language of flowers meant an invitation to dance:

  
"Madam Snape, will you allow me to engage you in a waltz?"

  
Granger blushed as Draco and Lavender hurried to take their leave.


End file.
